#ansgiftexchange

[marsuro]

Valentines Day exchange gift for @sailor-cali ! Hope you have a wonderful day! I had lots of fun trying new things again :D

[ansgiftexchange]

Only 2 Days left!

Valentine’s Day is February 14th

[promptos-smile]

AnS Secret Santa 2017 — for @party-with-books​. Merry Christmas! ^-^

[youseimanami]

Merry Christmas @hidetheremote! Rachell, you are a fantastic member of this fandom, I’m so very happy I could draw something to you. I really hope you like it! I wish you wonderful holidays, rest as much as you can and enjoy these days! 

[infinitelystrangemachinex]

Thicker than Blood: An Izana and Zen Story (1/2)

Merry Christmas and happy holidays, @v-a-a-n-i! I hope you’ve been having a wonderful, happy day! Here’s your @ansgiftexchange present. Because I’m out of control as usual, I’ve split this story into two parts. You’ll get the second part later today. Izana, with a focus on his relationship with Zen, as requested! :)

Autumn in Wistal is an afterthought. There, an exhale of chill, done.

The leaves turn and everything. Yet no matter how late each year they come swirling to the ground, it always seems a premature thing. A great, sudden fall long before their time.

This year’s autumn roars. Tunneling through narrow passes between the great mountains, it comes screaming across the plains from the North. It tears Wistal’s banners from its battlements and flings them to the skies, it twists hair and hoods and scarves into every citizen’s face until they all grope blindly for doorknobs, hunch down to let dirt and dust and leaves turned stinging projectiles pummel their backs. After the worst nights, they find odd things embedded in wood or plaster buildings - acorns, fruit pits, tiny pieces of stone, wedged there like miniature remnants of a siege against the walls.

It rips the leaves down, too. One huge onslaught overnight. They carpet the ground.

Izana gazes down at the carnage out his office window the next morning. “Too early.”

Haruka sniffs, standing with his hip glued to the corner of the desk and not looking out the window himself. Izana daydreams, for the third time that morning, of ordering him to pull up a chair and to be relaxed. The only thing that stops him is knowing that the man would do it - worse, without complaint.

“Summer is over, Your Highness,” Haruka informs him. Is it, now? Izana might say. “Autumn is right on time as usual. Rather late this year, if you ask me.”

If he’s to be king one day, he can’t go around letting other people have the last word.

“No.” With a flourish, his signature grants a certain Count Blaker the remainder of an entire island. A similar gesture had stripped a certain Sui of all he and his family had possessed, almost a year past. Too easy. “Much too early, Lord Haruka.”

This year’s autumn is an undisputed, unmitigated disaster.

Imagine, then, the winter.

Weeks later, winter has come - gray in the bark of stripped trees, halfhearted sunlight, some rain. Never snow. Winter is the consequence of autumn, and behaves as all consequences do - it sits where it is very still, doesn’t move, and patiently makes no fuss while everyone dwelling in its influence makes an enormous one.

Yet, weeks later, the castle is somehow peaceful again. The white stone walls and courtyard are scrubbed spotless. The Clarinesian banners fly again. Zen hasn’t crossed the border of the innermost walls since… since. Mitsuhide and the tutors report, they’ve never seen him sit so still.

Weeks later, Izana can still feel in his sword arm the resistance of someone else’s flesh as his blade had hewn it in twain.

Kurent is more than a month after the Solstice, and if any proper villager has anything to say about it, is best spent without the dense markets and apartments of Wistal. Her Majesty Haruto must have agreed, for it was on the first day of ten of Kurent, in what had at the time been the tiniest excuse for a populated place upon which he had ever set foot, that he had found out about the rest of his life.

“I’ll handle matters in the North,” his mother had said, cheerful. Almost flippant. “And you’ll stay in the South. You’re practically doing my job for me here already, anyway.”

He has absolutely nothing to say. Well - maybe he does. He sighs. “Mother…”

“That’ll be easier, I think,” she tells him, her smile lovely and - as Haruka had once put it - as deep as the sea. “We both know I’m useless inside that castle.”

Because she’s telling him, isn’t she - Zen is at his side, barely eleven years old, staring up at their mother with mouth slightly agape and barely comprehending that the upper rooms of Wistal Castle are about to become no better than a royal orphanage. But this is no familial matter, no prequel to some farewell between mother and sons.

It’s a business arrangement.

“It’s for the best,” he agrees, knowing his own smile is just as lovely and just as deep. He feels a tug at his sleeve from Zen, tentative, but Izana clenches his fist and willfully ignores him.

Kurent lasts ten days. They return to Wistal without Her Majesty.

At sixteen years old, Izana takes his mother’s seat at the great desk in the Western tower. No one so much as frowns at his right to be there. And the throne is left empty - a great, golden, dusty question mark.

Had the leaves fallen early that year, too, those months before that Kurent? He can’t remember. But that autumn - the big one, the disaster - he remembers crystal clear. And the consequences that followed.

Two weeks before that Solstice, a messenger boy bows into his office - shirt untucked at one corner and shoes unshined, one of his mother’s old employees, still unused to - or uncaring of - Izana’s preferences after two years - and clears his throat. “Your Highness, there’s a request for an emergency audience with you.” He pauses. Izana’s pen scratches across the parchment before him as he silently wishes future readers well; his hand’s beginning to cramp. The boy coughs. “Immediately, Highness.”

Gods help him. “I’m well aware of the meaning of ‘emergency,’ Haru.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“It’ll have to wait, I’m afraid.” On his desk is sprawled a full and detailed report of exactly how and approximately why three knights-in-training had died bloody deaths just north of Sereg Fortress three nights ago, and, well -

He’s not his mother.

Still, Sereg is in the North, but the military is at this castle, and -

“I - I must insist, Your Highness.”

Izana pauses, then lowers his pen slowly to the desk. He looks up, and, to the boy’s credit, Haru looks like he’s about to faint.

“It’s your brother, Highness,” he says, whitefaced. “It’s Prince Zen.”

Sometimes we’re afraid of failure. Sometimes we avoid the things that matter to us the most. And sometimes we forget just how much they mattered in the first place. No matter how present they are, memory converts them to air, to empty space.

At some point, Izana is quick to learn, most empty spaces turn into people once again. His brother just does it with flair.

“Brother.” One of Zen’s strangely clean knees hits Izana’s office floor, one of his little fists following, and yes, this is how Izana discovers for certain that they must be related after all. “That is my proposition. Do you concede to it?”

Silence is a weapon when it’s a choice, so Izana lets it hang.

They say a prince must never look down upon his subjects. Even kneeling, they are men and women still, more than capable of looking him straight in the eye.

So he holds his chin high when he says, “If it’s your wish, then so be it.”

Zen lifts his head. He catches the genuine surprise that sharpens the blue of his eyes. As well as the sudden cloudiness when he thanks him like he doesn’t know him, rises, and leaves.

Izana wonders, as he watches Zen leave his office, if “people” also means “brothers.” Or not.

“Isn’t part of your job to remind me of things?” Izana asks, before Haruka has stepped all the way through the door.

Haruka pauses in the doorway. Swallows, hard. “Your Highness?”

“I’m becoming forgetful,” is the only explanation he offers, and his pins and needles revel in the furtive glances Haruka casts him throughout the rest of the day.

At the age of eighteen, Izana oversees the extinguishing of brief, hungry fires. They pop up in the strangest of places - disturbances and riots, threatenings and ransoms, tamped out easily enough, but always sparking up as soon as a back is turned. Emboldened by the rumors of a breach in Wistal’s pristine, white walls. The breach, they say, that bled.

Izana had signed his life away two years ago, though. He’s already used to it not being his.

At the age of thirteen, Zen will begin poisoning himself every week for queen and country - a queen that will not come and visit her sons after their attempted assassination had put Zen’s childhood in a mass, unmarked, unmourned grave, and Izana is not, he isn’t -

He paces past Zen’s door twice that night. And then he finds who to blame.

Even after having prison to eat away at muscle and nerve, the man still has enough in him to dole out punishment when Izana twists just a mite too far, the backhanded slice that ought to have decapitated his opponent leaving his arm too exposed in the chilly winter dawn, and in those slow details at the pounding height of realization, Izana catches how, at the edge of the stone dais, Mitsuhide’s hands fist in the fabric of his own pant legs.

Izana jerks backward, but not before the prisoner’s blade stings the heel of his hand - he hisses as he slides free. And the man’s eyes widen as he tucks in close, pivots, and with an almighty effort, bashes the combined force of his fist and sword hilt into the prisoner’s fighting hand.

His sword whirls away into the dawn, hits the stone floor, and skitters over the ledge and out of sight onto the lawn somewhere below. Izana levels his steel to unquiveringly brush the prisoner’s throat, and the man is already on his knees, head tipped back, eyes afire.

Izana’s blood is still roiling in his veins. He can’t seem to catch his breath - it just comes faster and faster through his teeth until he’s drunk on the high, and he feels he could cast this sword aside and wrangle this man to the ground, scrap with him on the dusty floor until Mitsuhide would unfailingly pull them apart, clucking his worry while the bloodlust still raged under Izana’s skin.

He is Izana Wisteria.

Experience tells him exactly how much force is needed to breach the prisoner’s skin. With cool deference, he traces a line horizontally across the exposed throat, parallel to the ugly slash across the man’s nose.

He knows what the court must think of him. That at eighteen years old, he’s accustomed to parting flesh with sword, unheeded of the blood that twists down his own hand to the solid hilt, that he doesn’t even blink as he dispatches his foes with a stone heart.

Izana jerks his chin. “What’s your name?”

The man blinks from behind a draggled fringe, the translation of Izana’s victory a stony defeat in his face. “Zakura. Zakura Shidnote.”

Izana turns his wrist, nicking the underside of an unshaven chin with the sword’s edge. “And my brother. What’s his name?”

The breath is coming hard and fast through that scarred nose. “Zen Wisteria.”

Izana flicks the sword off of Zakura’s throat. He growls, head jerking back, a line of blood racing down his neck.

“You drew mine,” Izana says, turning the injured heel of his hand so the man can see. “I drew yours. Satisfied?”

“Are you going to kill me or not, Princeliness?” Zakura hisses, and Izana almost laughs when he hears Mitsuhide’s scandalized gasp.

“You’re a traitor to your country for trying to kill its two princes, Zakura. Must be thrilling.”

“Very.”

Izana does smile then. He tugs a cloth from the waistband of his pants and runs it up his blade, staining the fabric gray, then, at the tip, red. “You work for me now. Mitsuhide.” The man shoots to his feet, gaze flicking warily between prince and prisoner, and Izana turns on his heel. “Get this man a proper jacket, will you?”

It starts just a few days later.

That afternoon, he lifts his head from paperwork, doing his best to hide how his eyes cross when he tries to look at Zakura, seated at the corner of the room. He feels a spike of vindication at how the man crosses then uncrosses his ankles, tugs frowningly at the starched jacket and cape across his shoulders. He itches his nose. Then sees Izana looking and straightens, pulling on a frown, crinkling his wrecked nose in a loud sniff.

“Charming,” Izana drawls.

Zakura smirks back. “They say that seat turned to ice when Haruto left and you started sitting in it. A bit numb in your knickers yet?”

He ignores him. “Are you familiar with the effects of wolfsbane?”

“Huh?”

“It’s a poisonous plant,” Izana continues airily. There’s a cold sweat hidden at his palms. “So much as touching it with your bare skin brings its bite. Itching skin. Vomiting. A struggling heart.”

“We’re talking about a plant, right?” Zakura sneers. “Could’ve sworn we were discussing you.”

Izana stands. Zakura flinches in his chair. “Come,” he says tightly. “I have some business in the pharmacy.”

Zen is twisted into a sickbay cot’s sheets, sweating them translucent.

Izana holds his chin high when he says, “How long has he been like this?”

Garrack pulls her clipboard away from her chest and glances down at it. “About an hour.” Her knuckles are white around the clipboard’s edge. “It was such a tiny dosage - but I’ll give him the antidote in two hours if his symptoms don’t improve.”

Izana watches her. Her blonde hair is drawn over one shoulder. Her gaze is hard, staring at Zen, at how the virgin muscles in his arm contract and relax under his pale skin. Then at Mitsuhide, who’s in a chair against the wall beside them, bent over his knees with his hands clasped painfully tight together. Then warily at Zakura, who’s drifting somewhere behind them at their heels, unable to decide what to do with himself.

They say a prince must be the companion of fear, but never show it.

“Will there be any lasting effects?”

Garrack arches a brow at him, annoyed. “Your Highness - do not think that I’ll be the one to let him get hurt. I will never let that happen.”

I did, he thinks, unbidden. He leaves Mitsuhide where he sits and leads Zakura out of the pharmacy, locked to the outside world to keep its painful secret hidden away. I let him.

He rounds on Zakura on the path, cold biting at their cheeks. Zakura backs away slightly, as pale as Zen had been, strangely silent for once.

Also as Zen had been.

“The Sui must have had help,” Izana says, his fists clenching. “You’re going to tell me everything you know.”

Izana thinks, sometimes, that there must be more ways to fell a prince than there are to fell a person. Sword to the throat. Arrow to the back. Poison in the cup.

Zen is wheezing on the training field across from Mitsuhide. His slashes are sloppy, his jabs fall short of their target.

Izana watches from the first story, from around a corner and out of sight. Zakura peers down at the scene from between two colonnades.

“I thought he’d be down for a week,” Zakura says wonderingly. “It’s been two days. He’ll kill himself.”

“Mitsuhide will only suffer him so far.” Izana catches himself with a frown. What is he doing, soothing the traitor now?

Suddenly, there’s a whoop from below. Zen, bent double and sweating - a wretched sight, honestly - suddenly explodes outward, his sword arm whipping up. Mitsuhide’s sword goes flying out of his grip, and Izana can see his grin from here.

Zakura flexes his hand in memory of how Izana had disarmed him just so, a week ago. “Kid’s observant.”

Something draws tight in Izana’s chest. “I suppose.”

Zakura looks over at him out of the corner of his eye, sly. “Is he a brother or an accessory, Highness?”

Izana does paperwork until midnight that night, Zakura with him, the man’s chair mysteriously gone missing.

Wolfsbane. Snakeroot. Angel’s trumpet. Bleeding heart.

In the dark corridor, lamplight cuts across the floor like a blaze of flame. And a woman gives a breathy, startled shriek.

Izana is on his feet, grabbing Garrack’s wrists before she can think to box his ears. “It’s me, it’s me.”

Garrack breathes hard through her mouth, eyes wide in the dark, and then finally relaxes in his grip. Izana lets her go.

“Thought you were some - I don’t know,” she says, sagging back against the door jamb. “Maybe that Shidnote.”

Izana snorts and eases back down into his pilfered chair, as gracefully as he can remember to be. “The only one he wants to hurt is me, so don’t worry.”

“I’ve got enough on my plate as it is,” she grumbles. And then the premature lines in her face deepen. “Want to come in?”

“No.” He shifts, uncomfortable, then unbuckles his sword from his hip and lays it on the floor with a clack. “You moved him to his room to do it this time. You have our thanks.”

“You know, he wouldn’t mind it you waited for him. It might actually make him, I don’t know, happy.”

“I can’t.”

He thinks that someone, somewhere, might have said that a prince should be honest. But at this point, he’s sure he’s just making things up.

Garrack stares at him, then shoulders away from the wall. “Can’t wait inside,” she says slowly, carefully, “or can’t make him happy?”

You’re a common pharmacist, a man’s voice rages in his head, and you have no right -

He thinks of Zakura, the snide comments, the strange moments of deep silence. “What does everyone else say?” he asks her, voice flat.

Perhaps that’s unfair to her, he realizes. But Garrack is Garrack, and she doesn’t have his confidence for nothing.

Garrack starts toward him, hesitant. “You’re all he’s got,” she says quietly. “You know what he says, when he comes in for a new dose?”

“I don’t want to know.”

“That it’s his duty to help secure his country’s safety, and can he take it with chamomile tea, please.” She stands right in front of him, almost touching his knees. “He’s only got thirteen summers, and he’s starting to sound like a cross between you and Haruka.”

“Lord Haruka,” he corrects automatically, and she bristles. “Zen’s brave. Let him be.”

“I am, but he needs you.”

“He needs his mother.”

Silence. Perhaps this is how the restless horses feel in the paddocks, bucking and twisting in the air as their handlers try to leap close and soothe them. Or how a dog must feel, fangs bared and snarling, as the gentle hand that feeds it tries not to get bitten. Garrack stares, then leans forward, her hand lighting on his shoulder where he sits. Her body blocks the dim lamplight filling the hallway from within Zen’s room; Izana can hear his breathy snores.

“I can’t be so many things at once,” he tells her, and feels his face heat, ashamed. A prince must never feel shame, as he does all things with purpose, only things that he knows he will not regret.

“Then don’t be,” Garrack whispers. Her strong fingers grip his shoulder, pushing it firmly against the chair’s back. “Be Izana.”

And here we are, he thinks, sitting outside his brother’s bedroom that’s become in a single breath a sickbed, at the crux of the problem.

“I blamed him,” he says, staring blankly under Garrack’s arm into the depths of the room, the four-poster bed just visible beyond the doorframe and laden quietly with its burden, “for two years.”

“Blamed him for what?”

He sighs. “Everything.”

[ayyraeraedraws]

Merry Christmas @jami1307lah! 

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧ .・

Sketch book pages of the OT3 in a Magic!AU

✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧ .・

[zacekova]

Burden of Birth

For @youseimanami. 

The wind had changed direction.

Izana crossed his arms and rested them on the stone rampart, watching the storm approach - a maelstrom as slow as molasses of heavy clouds weighed down with ice and snow - and hunching his shoulders against the bitter cold nipping at the exposed skin of his neck.

This trip to the north had been both a respite and an agony, a break from the monotony of paperwork and routine at Wistal exchanged for a different brand of official meetings and grueling desk work; time away from one pair of guileless, fiery eyes only to be confronted with another; leaving behind the repeated declarations of someone’s wish for a bride to face the possibility of his own.

Haki was a politician to her core - intelligent, observant, clever - and yet Makiri had shielded her from much of the cruel, clandestine nature of Clarines’s peerage. She was quick and curious and had a backbone of steel but she was also pure, innocent. She had not been sullied or polluted by the malicious nature and selfish greed of the nobility. She had not faced their corruption head-on or been forced to pretend to be anything other than what she was for the sake of maintaining power; Haki was a pristine lamb ready for slaughter.

Nothing about their relationship was finalized yet. In fact, this visit was precisely to determine if what Izana had discerned from letters and formal meetings and distant scrutiny was true - that Haki would make a fine queen, with time. And yet, Izana loathed to wed her. Haki was strong, she could withstand the wild and twisted danger of court life and come out stronger for it. But she shouldn’t have to, just as he had always sworn to himself that Zen shouldn’t have to.

As Shirayuki shouldn’t have to.

It had taken time, but Izana had accepted that her motives were virtuous, wholesome. She had built up a measure of esteem among her peers and the palace staff rather quickly and handled herself with unshakable decorum. She was a respected pharmacist and an asset to her position.

But that did not change the unfortunate nature of her birth. Shirayuki was a peasant, a foreign one at that, and not suitable as a bride for the Second Prince of Clarines, no matter the quality of her character. Izana deplored it at times, but a proper title or pedigree were strictly required for spouses of the royal family; the nobility would never cede ground on that. Shirayuki did not possess the latter and her chance of gaining the former was slim. And if she did it would likely be so far in the future that it would be too late for Zen. Sooner or later they would have to accept that marriage was simply not a possibility for them.

It was regrettable. Regrettable that Izana could not do more to protect his brother’s fragile, idealistic heart, that he could only stand back and offer a facade of support that did not truly exist until reality came knocking and he would be forced to watch that fragile heart shatter all over again.  

Izana’s breath clouded in front of his face, the fog whisked away by the wind of the oncoming storm, and he clenched his fingers against the aching cold seeping into his bones. The clamp of booted feet drew his attention and he looked up to a see a soldier hurrying toward him across the battlement.

“Your Highness!” The soldier snapped a salute once he was within speaking distance. “The pharmacists believe they have found a cure for the sickness and have begun preparations to test and produce it. The Royal Pharmacist Shirayuki and Sir Obi have gone to investigate the source of the illness. They are expected back any time now.”

Izana resisted the urge to frown - if she had gone to the source she would likely succumb to the illness herself soon. Was it the same penchant for recklessness that had drawn Zen to her? - and gave a short nod of acknowledgement. “Anything else?”

The guard shook his head. “No, Your Highness.”

Izana nodded again. “Thank you. You’re dismissed.”

The guard saluted once more and turned away, off toward the warmth of the nearest guard tower with the brisk pace typical of northerners.

Izana cast one last look at the horizon, noble and colorless and uninspiring compared to the passion he had witnessed in a certain pharmacist of late and sighed.

He set out for the research center, head down against the battering wind sweeping through the streets, thoughts far away.

His brother’s… friend (there seemed to be no word that quite encapsulated all that she was to anyone) had shown a fierceness of spirit these last few days unparalleled by anyone Izana had ever met. She carried herself with great pride and humility, a strange, antithetical balance of traits that lit her from the inside out like a blessed blaze in the dark. Her small, delicate frame had lifted that sick child from the snow and bore him to the pharmacy with the grace and strength of a knight and cradled him close with tender care. Her verdant eyes had shone with determination and righteous anger and unwavering compassion in equal portions and even from a distance Izana had been mesmerized, drawn like a moth to emerald, searing flame.

Izana had always been aware of her comeliness, her charm and odd character, but he had never expected this, had never expected to know her well enough for it to matter.

And yet…

And yet now he knew that in contrast to that fearless valor the smallest of teases would revert her to a blushing, fumbling mess, mouth sputtering protests and those fierce eyes averted in embarrassment and uncertainty. It was intriguing. Endearing. He wanted to tease her endlessly. He wanted to set her loose among the court and watch them dance for her, because of her. He wanted to tuck the errant strands of her hair behind her ear and wait to see if her cheeks would color to match. He wanted to watch her in her element, poring over complex texts and caring for her patients until the sun went down and rose again. He wanted to know this strange, contrary woman who had stalked his castle’s halls for months, that his brother had rebuked him for disregarding without a second glance, that had earned his respect and admiration almost before he could blink.

No wonder Zen had vouched for her so passionately, if he had already seen what Izana had only now witnessed.

Damn the fortune of her birth. Damn the fortune of their birth, for she was beyond either of their reach.

Izana pushed aside his melancholy as he strode through the entrance to the research center, scanning the aisles and balconies for familiar faces. He saw her from below, drawn by the sound of her voice and the voice of her ever-faithful guardian at her side, and saw her stumble, bracing herself against the nearest wall while she heaved for breath. He jolted, stretching out a hand to catch her before it even registered that he was too far to help and he huffed in irritation - at himself for the involuntary, revealing action, at her for pushing herself to the point of collapse despite his awareness of the need for it, at this entire situation for what it had wrought, both for his people and within himself.

Izana let his hand fall and turned toward the closest staircase, removing his cloak from around his shoulders as he ascended the steps. Obi was just telling Shirayuki to wait while he went to fetch the help he could not provide in his own weakened state when Izana reached them. He bent down and dropped his cloak over Shirayuki’s legs, snaking his arms under her knees and back and cradling her against his chest as he lifted her from the floor. She was light, delicate. As if there were not steel in her bones and a molten core of fire within.

Her eyes opened slowly, lids fluttering over hazy, curious eyes. “Izana?” She frowned. “No, you’re Lowen right now.”

He smiled at her casual use of his name - inadvertently charmed by her continual lack of propriety in a way that he never was with anyone else - and shifted her a bit to rest more comfortably in his arms. “It’s Izana,” he said. “I received a report on the situation and came to check in. I heard the two of you up here. You said you’ve found a cure for the illness, right Shirayuki? If you’ve let yourself collapse that must mean you have all the pieces together?”

She smiled up at him and nodded. “Yes. Every one.”

They left the research center, blasted by a wall of cold and wind that squirmed its way past open collars and loose hems, making itself at home in tender, sensitive places.

A curl of pride threaded through Izana on Shirayuki’s behalf. “You did well,” he said, happy to give credit where it was due, happy to have been proven wrong about her so thoroughly. She was far more than her red hair. “What do you want as a reward?”

Her smile was bright but her strength was flagging fast and her eyelids began to droop, voice quiet and slow. “Prince Izana, those words just now… were sufficient as a reward.”

His eyes widened. He had thought he was done being surprised by her, but he had expected she would at least ask him what he thought of her, or request that he not blame Zen for her presence in the castle; he should have known better. After the last few days of watching her work, hearing her talk, seeing the soul of her unfurl before him he should have known that she would think even that much to be greedy, if she had even thought of asking such things at all. Her reward was the health of her patients and anything else was too much, more than she deserved. Izana nodded, acknowledging her sincerity and letting the matter drop. “Very well.”

She slumped into a mild doze after that, the trace of her pleased smile lingering at the corners of her mouth, and Izana hefted her a bit closer.

They made it to the pharmacy in silence, the falling snow muffling even the sounds of their boots on the path, and were welcomed by a veritable hoard of worried pharmacists that darted around the trio asking questions and checking pulses as they headed back toward the infirmary so the two afflicted could receive treatment.

Obi bore Ryuu’s worried fussing with cheer, stripping his boots and climbing into a bed in an empty corner where he proceeded to lean against the wall and set about harassing the pharmacy staff with increasingly ridiculous requests and shameless teasing that he would likely keep up until he passed out from exhaustion.

Izana set Shirayuki down on one of the cots and snagged a nearby blanket to throw over her shivering frame, deciding his cloak was better served here and he would just have to suffer the short walk back to his chambers where he could retrieve his spare. He started to rise from his crouch when a delicate hand brushed his wrist and froze him in his tracks.

Shirayuki was smiling up at him, eyes hazy with sleep that tugged her, beckoning her into its depths with open, eager arms. “Thank you,” she whispered, falling asleep the moment the words had escaped her lips.

A lock of her hair had landed on her face, tangled in the ends of an eyelash and resting against her cheek like a tongue of warm flame, and Izana could not resist reaching out to brush it away, tucking it behind her ear as he had wanted to for days. He took in the relaxed expression on her face, the gentle smile and weary brows, and burrowed the memory away as a treasure. He uncurled her fingers from around his wrist, sliding her arm beneath the covers, and rose without another glance.

He saw Garrack on his way out, pulling her aside to request that he be notified as soon as the reckless Royal Pharmacist and her guard were back on their feet, ignoring the look she gave him. He knew what it looked like, knew it was futile to deny it to her of all people. But he knew she wouldn’t say anything, either, and something of his thoughts must have shown on his face for her eyes softened with understanding and she nodded.

“Thank you,” he said, and left before he had to witness any more of her sympathy. None of what he felt was ideal, nothing of this situation was fortunate or worthy of rejoicing, and yet he did not regret how his heart had changed. It was a burden he would bear with grace, because even should nothing ever come of it, at least he could say he knew her. That was enough.

[shirayukiwistalia]

Think before you act

Christmas gift for @shxdowofclarines! I decided to do obiyuki + ryuu friendship, although I ended up focusing more on the obiyuki part by accident. I’m sorry for the delay, but I hope you like it!

Can also be read on AO3 here

Summary: In which everyone throws a Christmas party for Ryuu, Shirayuki gets stuck in a tree, and Obi catches his mistress falling for him.

When Shirayuki woke up this morning, she didn’t think she’d be climbing a tree that afternoon in snowy Lyrias. She certainly didn’t think that she’d climb as high as she did, nor did she expect her body to freeze up at the sight of the ground far below her. She closed her eyes as she leaned back against the tree, willing her heart to settle before trying anything else.

It was just her luck that her gift would fly into a tree right before she was supposed to give it to someone. She sighed, opening her eyes and watching the visible breath form in the chilly air. Tucking the gift into her coat, Shirayuki eyed the tree once more, hoping to find footholds she could use to make her descent. After various attempts of getting down that resulted in making only a foot of progress, she gave up, pulling herself back up onto the branch she had started on. She was now effectively stuck in the tree.

At least she wasn’t far from the pharmacy building, but she was going to have to wait until someone came out to get their attention. Oh well, she’d get out the tree eventually. For now, she’d focus on keeping herself from falling off. Reaching into her coat, she touched the gift she’d made to double check that it was still there. She hoped Ryuu would like it, especially since it was their first Christmas in Lyrias. Kirito had been beside himself with shock when Ryuu revealed he had never been to a Christmas party before, which was something Kirito was determined to change this year. She smiled as she remembered how Kirito had marched into the pharmacy two weeks earlier.

“Big sister Shirayuki! Are you in here?”

Kirito entered the room, looking around as Shirayuki looked up from her desk. Upon meeting her gaze, he broke out into a wide grin and all but ran over to her.

“Hello, Kirito-kun,” she smiled. “How was lunch with Ryuu?”

“It was great! We saw Suzu go up to a girl and—wait, no, that’s not why I’m here.” Kirito cut himself off, shaking his head. His expression then turned incredulous as he said, “I asked Ryuu what he usually does on Christmas, and do you know what he said?”

Shirayuki shook her head, and Kirito leaned closer with an indignant cry. “He said he eats dinner and then sleeps!”

Shirayuki just stared, tilting her head in confusion.

“He just eats! And sleeps!” Kirito insisted.

“Kirito-kun, I’m not sure I’m following,” Shirayuki said. “What is the problem here?”

“That is the problem!” Kirito exclaimed. “That’s all he does!”

Kirito wasn’t any closer to making sense to Shirayuki, so she just stared at him until he continued.

“My point is,” he explained. “Ryuu hasn’t ever been to a Christmas party!”

Oh. Now she saw what he was getting at. A grin spread across Kirito’s face as he saw her realization, and he stood up straight with determination.

“We have to throw him a party this year,” Kirito declared. “It’s going to the best Christmas party he’s ever been to!”

As well as his first, Shirayuki thought, but she wasn’t going to say that out loud. She smiled at Kirito as he began outlining his plan for the best party ever, pacing the room out of excitement. She was so intrigued by the prospect of throwing a party for Ryuu that she didn’t notice a certain someone enter the room until a voice rang out.

“Whoa, it’s Little Kirito! What’re you doing here?”

Obi stood in the doorway, smiling at the not-so-little Kirito, who’s eyes lit up as he turned to face him.

“Big brother Obi! Perfect timing,” Kirito said. “Where’s a good place to throw a surprise party?”

With no preamble, Obi simply raised an eyebrow at the sudden question.

“A surprise party? Why? For who?”

“Who else?” Kirito scoffed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “All he does is eat and sleep on Christmas. On Christmas! It’s up to us to change that. By the way, can you cook?”

With the conversation answering exactly none of his questions, all Obi could do was shoot Shirayuki a helpless look that made her stifle a laugh.

“What Kirito-kun means to say—” she cut in, deciding to spare Obi from further confusion. “—is that Ryuu has never been to a Christmas party before, and he wants everyone to help plan a surprise party for him.”

“Never?” Obi’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Well, we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”

Kirito cheered and fist pumped the air in triumph as Suzu appeared besides Obi in the doorway.

“Something happened while I was gone,” he stated. “What have I missed?”

“We’re planning a surprise Christmas party—” Shirayuki began.

“Did someone say surprise party?”

Suzu and Obi jumped at the voice coming from behind them, turning to find an eager Yuzuri with an excited gleam in her eyes.

“I’m in!” she announced gleefully, slipping past the two and skipping up to Shirayuki. “So who are we doing this for?”

“Ryuu. He hasn’t been to a Christmas party before, so Kirito-kun wanted to throw one for him this year,” Shirayuki replied.

“He’s never been to a party before?” Yuzuri gasped. “I can’t say I’m that surprised, but what a shame! He’s missing out on so much.”

“Exactly!” Kirito agreed. “So here’s what I was thinking of doing…”

Once the logistics were set for the party, the group went their separate ways for the day. Suzu, Yuzuri, and Kirito headed off to get dinner together, leaving Shirayuki and Obi to close up the pharmacy.

“So Mistress,” Obi began as he moved a box back to its original shelf. “What are you getting Little Ryuu for Christmas?”

“I think I might try knitting him a scarf,” Shirayuki replied, straightening out the papers on her desk.

“Oh? I didn’t know Mistress liked knitting.”

“I just started a few weeks ago,” she shrugged. “It seemed useful, considering we live in Lyrias. What are you getting Ryuu?”

“I may be the crafty type—” Obi grinned, eliciting a groan from Shirayuki. Mission accomplished. “—but I’m not one for handicrafts. I figured I’d get him a nice pen or something.”

“He’d like that,” Shirayuki nodded, climbing onto the top rung of the step ladder. “Could you hand me those clean vials?”

Obi set down the stack of books he’d been carrying and scooped up the vials on the workstation, handing them one by one to Shirayuki as she carefully placed them back in their proper positions. Once everything was in place, she began her descent down the ladder but paused when an outstretched hand entered her vision.

“Just in case,” Obi teased. “Wouldn’t want our pharmacist getting hurt.”

Shirayuki rolled her eyes but gratefully accepted it, savoring the warmth his hand offered as she climbed down the ladder. She couldn’t help but linger as her feet touched the ground, and she was mildly pleased when Obi made no move to pull away either. She thought back to the last time they had been in Lyrias, when he had carried her out of the cave they found the Olin Maris seeds in. At the time, she’d been too preoccupied to think about it, but Obi’s presence was truly comforting. She and others drew strength from his, and it made her feel like she could do anything alongside him.

Without thinking, she brought his hand up to her lips and kissed it.

A strangled noise left Obi’s throat, and she glanced up in alarm, praying she hadn’t just made a mistake.

“Ah, um, I—” Obi stammered. “—I have to go!”

Before she could say anything else, Obi was gone, the only indication of his being there was the fading warmth in her hand. When reality caught up with her, she felt her cheeks burn and buried her face in her hands. What had she just done?

The next two weeks were a flurry of activity, from both work and planning the surprise party. Christmas time was also peak flu season, so the pharmacy had a constant stream of visitors. Obi hadn’t stopped by in a while, and while that could be due to his busy schedule as well, Shirayuki couldn’t help but feel as if he were avoiding her. After all, he had always made time to stop by at least once every few days despite his duties.

“Shirayuki-san, can you help me with the medicine over here?” Ryuu called out from his workstation.

Shirayuki came over and took one of the beakers from him, and they worked in a comfortable silence as Suzu directed patients outside. Whenever someone walked in, she couldn’t help by glance to see who they were. After the third time, she found Ryuu staring at her in concern, which caused a sheepish smile to appear on her face.

“Sorry for worrying you,” Shirayuki said. “I’m okay.”

“Okay…” Ryuu replied, though he seemed unconvinced. “Please let me know if there’s anything bothering you.”

Shirayuki felt her heart swell at his offer and gave him a bright smile. Little Ryuu was growing up.

“Thanks, Ryuu.”

He opened his mouth to say something but hesitated, instead shaking his head and focusing back on his work. It was a few moments later when he decided to break the silence.

“I haven’t seen Obi around lately.”

Shirayuki jumped violently, startling Ryuu into almost dropping the medicine he was working on. She glanced frantically at the door but saw no one, letting out a breath of relief.

“…Shirayuki-san?” Ryuu asked cautiously. “Are you sure nothing’s bothering you?”

“I’m fine!” she replied quickly, voice higher than normal. “Everything’s fine, nothing’s wrong.”

“I…see…”

Shirayuki let out another breath before composing herself again. She turned to face Ryuu, who looked at her with a worried stare. She smiled at him, hoping to appear more put together than she felt.

“I’m sorry, Ryuu. I’ve just been on edge for a while,” she admitted. “I promise that nothing bad is going on.”

“…Okay,” Ryuu nodded, satisfied with her answer this time.

The door was then wrenched open, almost giving Shirayuki another heart attack, when Kirito strode into the room.

“Ryuu! Let’s have a snowball fight!” Kirito grinned. “Losing side has to buy the other side Lyrias tea and potato dumplings.”

“…I could just make the tea myself,” Ryuu replied, causing Kirito to flush.

“That’s not the point!” Kirito argued. “Anyway, we’re going! See you later, Big sister Shirayuki!”

Shirayuki waved cheerfully as Kirito dragged Ryuu out of the room. Now then, it was time to finish up and prepare for the party. As she was tidying up the herb storage, her hand brushed against a wrapped up bundle. Curious, she reached into the cabinet and pulled it out. She laughed lightly when she realized that she was holding a leftover Lyrias tea packet from their previous project. Ryuu wouldn’t even have to make the tea himself if he lost the snowball fight. He had surprisingly good aim, as they all discovered during their first visit to Lyrias.

She decided to add the tea into her present for Ryuu, if not for the memories than for the tea itself. Since the plan was for Kirito to distract Ryuu with the snowball fight, it was her job to finish up work for the day. She would go straight to the party after this, so she had brought her gift bag into the pharmacy and hidden under her desk. As she placed it on the counter, she had a faint click before a gust of wind blew into the room. What in the world?

When the wind died down, she turned to see that the window had been opened, and the person she’d been trying to talk to for the past two weeks was standing in front of it.

“Obi?!”

“Sorry about that, Mistress,” Obi replied, rubbing his neck sheepishly. “Didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“Never mind that,” she said quickly. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk about the other day.”

Oh. Shirayuki felt her heart skip a beat before she took a deep breath. Obi stepped closer until he was in front of her, gazing at her with an unreadable expression.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable the other day,” she began. “I shouldn’t have done that without asking. I just—”

Obi’s gaze made her falter. He was quiet, contemplating. Understanding. She felt a spark of hope in her chest.

“You’re very important to me, Obi. I care for you a lot,” she said softly. Hopefully.

She waited for him to say something—anything—and watched him let out a breath he’d been holding. Very slowly, he lifted his hand toward her until it settled gently on her cheek. She nearly gasped at the contact because it was the first time he had touched her outside of necessity. It was the first time she had ever felt him tremble.

“Am I allowed to take meaning from those words?” he asked, so quietly it was nearly a whisper.

Shirayuki’s breath hitched at his tone, and she stared up into his eyes, seeing for the first time how vulnerable her knight could be. She offered him a content smile and brought up her hand to cover his.

“Yes.”

Obi’s eyes widened as she leaned in his touch, basking in his warmth. His mind was reeling because even though this was what he’d expected, even though this was what he’d been hoping for, actually hearing the words from her mouth was a completely different matter.

The wind picked up again, scattering various instruments on the tables, causing the both of them to turn away to see the mess that now covered the room. Shirayuki sighed in resignation as she reluctantly pulled away to close the window. She was just about to push the lock into place when a flash of yellow caught her eye. She whipped her head around to look at her present for Ryuu, and the bag had been knocked over when the window had been opened and oh no—

“The scarf!” she cried out, pushing away from the window. Scooping up her coat from her chair, she ran for the door.

“Mistress? What’s going—”

Shirayuki was already gone by the time Obi finished his question, standing alone in the room in confusion. What just happened? Was any of that real? The wind pried the window open again, scrambling the room’s contents even more. Okay, definitely real, judging by the sting of the cool air on his face.

Obi wrestled with the window to finally get it shut and locked, but when he turned to survey the damage, most of the room’s items had been blown into new resting places. Oh, hell. He sighed before picking up the pens that had fallen on the floor. They didn’t have much time left until the party, so he was going to have to tidy up the place before he could go after the Mistress.

Hopefully, she wouldn’t get into too much trouble while she was gone.

Shirayuki lamented her predicament as she eyed the ground for the umpteenth time. She should’ve asked Obi to come with her when she saw the scarf fluttering against the tree. Now, she was stuck in a tree with no way down and Ryuu’s party was starting soon. She sighed and leaned back again. At least, with no way down, she had time to process what had just happened.

Her face burst into flames at the memory of Obi’s voice. She buried her face in her arms as she replayed the words, the sheer amount of hope in his voice when he spoke. If she had known acting on these feelings would give him the hope he’d had for so long, she would’ve done it long ago. Despite the chilly air, she was so warm that she was sure that she’d be fine even without her coat.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been in the tree, but she eventually heard someone walking below. Grabbing firmly onto the tree, she leaned out and called out to them.

“Excuse me! Could you please help me down?”

She heard the footsteps pause before continuing faster and getting closer to her. She was crying with relief on the inside as the person approached.

“Mistress?!”

Shirayuki nearly lost her balance at his voice, but she scrambled to steady herself before leaning down and meeting Obi’s surprised gaze.

“Why are you in a tree?” Obi asked, wearing the most confused expression she’d seen on him yet.

“When the window was open, the wind blew the scarf I made for Ryuu into this tree,” she replied. “I climbed up to get it back, but now I can’t get down…”

Obi stared at her for a moment, making her wonder if she’d said something strange, but then stared at the ground. He looked back at her and then again to the ground. Her brow furrowed. He couldn’t possibly be thinking of—

“All right!” Obi exclaimed, spreading his arms. “Mistress, jump! I’ll catch you.”

What?!

“Obi, this is so dangerous! I don’t want to hurt you,” she called down.

“Don’t worry!” he grinned. “I won’t ever drop you.”

The rest of Shirayuki’s concerns died on her tongue as she watched that bright grin on his face. She felt herself smile, and she loosened her grip on the tree. With a deep breath, she let go.

Obi let out a soft grunt, catching her under the knees and around her back. She looked up at him, cheeks flushed partly from excitement and partly from fear. He had always saved her when she needed it, but there was something different this time. She realized with a start that it was the indescribable happiness in his every movement. A happiness she had caused.

She didn’t think it would be ever possible to feel more loved than she did in that moment.

“Hey there, Mistress,” Obi laughed. “Dropping in?”

Shirayuki rolled her eyes as he put her down. She stretched her sore legs, sighing in relief as some of the tension left her body. Stepping closer to Obi, she leaned up onto her toes and pressed a soft kiss into his cheek.

“Thank you, Obi,” she smiled.

Obi’s cheek burned where her lips touched him, and he brought a hand up to his face in wonder. Shirayuki blushed upon realizing her initiative, but it was worth seeing Obi’s face turn pink. She reached for his hand, heart jumping when he tightened his fingers around hers despite a lingering hesitation in the action.

“It’s okay, Obi,” she assured him. “I want this.”

She felt the hesitation disappear.

“You’re late!” Yuzuri exclaimed as Shirayuki walked into the room. She all but tackled her in a hug.

“Sorry,” Shirayuki replied sheepishly. “I had to chase down my present for Ryuu.”

Yuzuri gave her an incredulous look before noticing Obi behind her. She raised an eyebrow at the pair, who found a sudden interest in the walls of the room. Her mouth dropped open.

“Shirayuki, we need to talk later,” Yuzuri beamed. “You have to tell me what’s going on!”

“Okay, okay,” Shirayuki replied quickly, face turning pink. “I promise.”

“You’d better,” Yuzuri smiled. “Now, Obi, help me hang up these decorations.”

Yuzuri grabbed Obi’s arm and pulled him away toward the box of party streamers but not before he gently bumped his hand against Shirayuki’s. She smiled at the gesture before heading toward the refreshment table to help Suzu set up the food. Shidan came in later with drinks for everyone, both alcoholic and non-alcoholic, and Kirito’s friends show up to help decorate the small tree they’d gotten for the party.

When the time came, everyone took their positions and awaited the guest of honor.

“Come on, Ryuu, you’re so slow!”

“I don’t understand why we’re here. I thought you had to treat everyone to tea?”

“I am treating everyone! They went on ahead.”

“But we’re in the research building… Maybe you don’t want to admit that you lost?”

“Hey!”

Obi snickered from beside Shirayuki, who shushed him even as she stifled her laughter.

“All right, we’re here!” Kirito said, his voice coming from outside the door. “Come on, go in!”

The door slowly opened, and Ryuu paused in the doorway. He marveled at the colorful streamers and ornaments as he stepped into the room. The fireplace gave the room a warm and comforting glow. He turned to Kirito in astonishment.

“What is all this?”

Kirito grinned, spreading his arms wide, and proudly declared, “This is your Christmas party!”

At his cue, the rest of them burst out of their hiding places, chorusing as they exclaimed, “Surprise!”

Ryuu stared wide eyed at everyone, jaw dropping open.

“This is all for me?” he asked, bewildered.

Shirayuki walked up to him, grabbing his hands with hers and smiling at him.

“Kirito-kun told us that you’d never been to a Christmas party before, so he wanted to throw one for you this year,” she explained.

“For me?” Ryuu repeated. “But I haven’t done anything special.”

“Christmas isn’t about doing anything special,” Obi said, walking over to the pair. “It’s about appreciating the people you care about.”

“Exactly!” Kirito grinned. “Christmas parties are always the best with friends!”

“I see… Thank you, everyone,” Ryuu smiled, and the room cheered.

“Let’s get this party started!” Yuzuri exclaimed.

Plenty of food and drink went around, as well as entertainment, though it was difficult to determine if Shidan’s rumored torch for Garack or Suzu’s failed attempts to get dates was more popular. Ryuu found himself seated between Shirayuki and Obi as Kirito argued with Shidan over whether or not he was allowed to drink alcohol (“It’s a special occasion!” “No means no!”). The argument ended when Kirito snatched up Obi’s cup and chugged it down before Shidan could grab it. With a triumphant and somewhat flushed grin, Kirito got up onto the table and announced that it was time for presents.

Ryuu opened his gifts with a careful hand, even folding the wrapping paper for the gifts that had come in a box. He thanked Obi for the custom engraved pen, and he wrapped Shirayuki’s scarf around his neck as soon as he opened it. Yuzuri gave him a cute pair of earmuffs, squealing in happiness when he tried them on for her. He took them off after because of the lack of necessity, but Yuzuri wore a big smile for the rest of the night. Shidan gifted him a tea set, and Suzu actually got the gloves from the matching set of the earmuffs Yuzuri had bought. Kirito’s present was nearly damaged when Ryuu almost dropped it after realizing it was the medicinal book he’d been interested in for a while. He beamed at Kirito, who flushed at the happy smile on Ryuu’s face.

Shirayuki smiled as she sat by the fireplace, sipping at a mug of hot chocolate. Ryuu was engrossed in a conversation with Kirito and his friends that had something to do with who actually won the snowball fight, since Kirito of course lost on purpose for the party.

Obi joined her at the fireplace, sitting in a comfortable silence as they enjoyed each other’s company. He sat at a distance that was far enough to be appropriate but close enough to by friendly, and Shirayuki felt a rush of fondness for his consideration. She reached out to touch his hand, and he adjusted their position to twine his fingers with hers.

“Merry Christmas, Obi.”

“Merry Christmas, Mistress.”

Shirayuki frowned before turning to Obi, who turned to face her as well.

“I’m afraid I don’t have your gift with me, but can I get a gift from you right now, Obi?” she asked.

“I don’t have yours on me either,” he replied, confused.

“I want you to call me by my name.”

He stared at her, seeing the fondness in her gaze and warm smile. And he gave in.

“All right. Merry Christmas…”

Shirayuki’s heart swelled.

“…Shirayuki.”

[traditional-with-a-twist]

At Last I See the Light

For @akagami-no-rae, for the AnS Gift Exchange! I thought the Tangled references you drew for zenyukiweek were really cute, so I decided to play with what a Tangled AU would look like. I chose this particular scene to make sure I could include all the characters that you requested. I hope you like it! Merry Christmas!

Zen watched irritably as Shirayuki blew on the fire, coaxing its growth. He would have been right beside her, helping, if his first attempt to lift the firewood hadn’t left him gasping in pain and unable to keep his grip.

That didn’t mean he had to like it.

“Okay, that’s done.” Shirayuki stood, brushing off her skirt. “Let me see your hand now.”

Zen held it away from her. “I thought you were going to explain about your hair first,” he challenged. “My hand will be fine.”

Shirayuki glanced to the side, pressing her lips together. “Healing people is my job. I don’t want to you to be in pain any longer.” She sat beside him on the tree. “Besides, it would be easier to show you than to explain.”

Zen laughed at the firm set of her jaw. “Fine, but don’t leave anything out this time.”

Maybe he was crazy, but this girl had already saved him more than once. He placed his hand in hers.

The last thing he expected was for her wrap her hair around it. “Wha--?”

“Please wait,” Shirayuki insisted. She closed her eyes. “Hana wa kirameku mahou no hana...” As she sang, a light shone from within her hair, brighter than the firelight. Zen watched the glow travel down the length of her hair to his hand and felt warmth like the sun on his face. Then the light faded.

Shirayuki unwrapped his hand, checking it for injury with a critical eye before she nodded and released him. There was no sign of the cut.

“Shirayuki...” Zen turned his hand back and forth, trying to make his mind accept what he could clearly feel and see. Finally, he closed his hand and smiled at her.

She relaxed, smiling back with bright eyes.

“I knew you were more than a girl with interesting hair when I met you in that tower,” Zen smirked, unable to resist reveling in that small victory. His smile turned sheepish. “But you were right, I never would have guessed the truth. Have you always known?”

Shirayuki shook her head, looking off into the dark night and running her fingers through her hair. “Ever since I was small, I’ve liked learning about medicine and how to help people. My grandparents encouraged me and one day, they said I was old enough to learn a special song. They taught me how to use the power of my hair, but they also told me to keep it a secret.”

She turned back to him. “And I tried. I only used it when no one else could see, in the very worst emergencies. But--” She bit her lip and closed her eyes. “After they died, people still came for me, wanting my hair and the money they could make from it. Somehow, everyone knew, even after all I’d done to follow my grandparents’ wishes.” Shirayuki bowed her head, hands curled in her skirts. “What good is a healer who can’t even protect herself?”

“That’s a joke, right?”

Shirayuki started, looking up at him. He smiled.

“You’ve not only protected yourself but me, as well.” Zen grinned at her. “If I hadn’t shown up, I have no doubt that you would have gotten free on your own. You’re amazing, Shirayuki. I may have just met you, but I already know that nothing can keep you from your dreams.”

Shirayuki blushed, letting her hair fall forward to hide her face. “Umm...did you...” She twisted a strand of hair around one finger, hesitating. “Did you really mean it when you said your real name was Zen Wisteria?” Her eyebrows drew together. “Isn’t the Wisteria family…?”

Zen heaved a sigh, bracing himself on his hands as he leaned back. “Yeah, they’re the one you’re thinking of. But my brother always has things well in hand, and I’ve never been good at playing politics with people who smile and flatter and never show you their real feelings. I had to leave because...I felt like I had no purpose.” He chuckled, looking up at the sky. “I wanted to do something real, make a difference for people in the world.”

Shirayuki leaned closer, caught up in his story. She could imagine him as a little boy bursting with life and adventure, searching for a place where he could shine.

Zen rocked forward, spreading his hands in front of him. “The servants used to tell me stories about this legendary swordsman, Mitsuhide Lowen. He was the best swordsman in the world, they said. And he only ever used his skills against those who had wronged the innocent and the helpless. I knew that was the kind of life I wanted.”

Shirayuki blinked. “Sir Mitsuhide is a legend? I’ve never heard of it...”

Zen waved his hand. “It’s much more popular up north where my mother’s from. Anyway...” He sighed, clasping his hands together and resting his chin on them. “One day, I went out for a walk and I realized: No one really needed me at home. It wouldn’t matter if I never came back.

“So,” he shrugged. “I just kept walking.”

“Do you miss your home?” Shirayuki asked. She lowered her voice, watching the shadows play across Zen’s face. “Your family?”

Zen’s lips twisted. “I’m sure that my brother is relieved that I’m not underfoot and getting into messes that he has to fix anymore.” He struck a relaxed pose. “Besides, when I can be the hero Mitsuhide Lowen and swoop in to save everyone, why would I want anything else?”

The fire crackled. Zen stood and swept her a bow. “And that’s my cue. I will rescue us from this cold night by getting more firewood. With all the new strength that you’ve given me, Shirayuki.” He held up his formerly injured hand and winked.

Shirayuki leaned forward, wrapping her arms around her knees as he turned to go. He had almost left the circle of firelight before she managed to speak. “I want you to know…! Zen!”

He stopped dead at the sound of his real name from her lips, turning back slowly.

Shirayuki forged on. “I’m glad I met you, Zen Wisteria.” She met his eyes. “Even more than Sir Mitsuhide, I’m glad to know you, Zen.”

His face softened. “Thank you, Shirayuki.” Zen seemed about to say more, but instead he did an about-face and marched determinedly into the woods, cheeks flushed.

Shirayuki felt her own cheeks warm. She stood hurriedly and looked around for Ryuu.

The little chameleon was curled in a hollow in the tree root.

“Sleep well, Ryuu,” she murmured, stroking his back with one finger. It had been an exciting day.

When she straightened up, glancing into the forest, her heart stuttered in her chest.

A man stood there.

Illuminated by moonlight, the stranger held a handful of her hair, letting the strands run through his fingers. “So you must be the girl worth more than a river of rubies.”

Shirayuki backed up, hands going to her hair. “Who are you?”

He didn’t answer, just kept studying the red strands. “It’s not rubies that come to my mind.” His eyes rose, a piercing blue. “Rather, what is left in the wake of a deadly fight.”

Shirayuki shivered. She felt transfixed as if by the stare of a hawk.

“Are you worth that?” He dropped her hair without breaking eye contact. “The lifeblood of those who would fight for you?”

Her mouth was dry. “I-I don’t want anybody to get hurt,” she whispered.

He smirked. “Are you so confident in the abilities of that swordsman, then?”

“Sword--?” Shirayuki involuntarily glanced in the direction Zen had disappeared and the man gave her a smile with too much teeth in it.

Her hands were shaking so she fisted them at her sides. Shirayuki took a steadying breath and shook her head. “Mitsu--Zen isn’t my guard. He’s my friend. And--I do believe in him. He’s the strongest person I know. He’s never let anything stop him.”

His predatory smile dissolved into a cold glare. “He sounds like a convenient ‘friend’ to be your shield against the world. Did you tell him those same honeyed words to lure him to you?”

Shirayuki held her head high. “Zen and I are walking side by side. We chose to follow the same path to our dreams. I won’t let you belittle his choices.”

The man tilted his head to one side. Almost carelessly, he drew a sword and held it up so it caught the light. “And what about your choice?”

The sword flashed and a severed leaf spun through the air. Shirayuki stiffened.

“Will you call for him now? Make him face my blade for your sake? Or come quietly?”

Shirayuki held very still so her voice would not shake. “I won’t just go with you. I’ll fight you. What Zen decides is up to him.”

The man straightened and sheathed his sword, looking otherworldly with the moonlight glowing on his pale hair. “The rumors say that your hair brings life and healing but you should know better. There’s death in that red hair of yours. It will follow you and anyone with you. Think carefully before you decide who that will be.” With that he stepped back, swallowed by the shadows.

Crouched on a boulder, Obi stifled a yawn with one hand. He looked up as the exalted young lord stepped into the clearing. “Finished already?” He leaned down to look at him, but his face was unreadable as ever. “Did you get what you wanted?”

Dark blue eyes flicked towards him, then away. “Not yet,” came the cold answer.

Obi bristled. “I can’t wait forever. I have a master to answer to.” He kept his voice light and playful but he made a show of tossing one of his knives in the air and catching it.

“Then take the girl,” the young lord said dismissively.

Obi sat back on his heels. “Just like that? What about--?”

“I won’t interfere. Perhaps I’ll even smooth your way.” The young lord’s hand dropped to the sword on his belt. “On the condition that you can separate them without harm coming to my brother.” His eyes were cold steel as they met Obi’s. “Even if he tries to stop you.”

So that’s how it was. Well, Obi had faced harder missions. If he had to rely on guile instead of violence, then at least those two fresh-faced kids looked like good targets. “That’s a deal I’ll take, milord.” He gave a careless salute and flipped back into the woods.

[shxdowofclarines]

Merry Christmas @josai! Here is your gift for the  @ansgiftexchange! Enjoy and happy holidays! <3

Moments like this.

After being in Lyrias for a while, Obi found himself yet again in this castle that gave him such memorable encounters and moments unlike any he had experienced before. He had never imagined that when he was sent to kill the prince’s favourite he would end up being such a good friend to them all. He laughed slightly, he was looking forward to seeing his Master again. Of course same went for Miss Kiki and Mister but, Master was…kinda special you could say.

Trust wasn’t something Obi was used to. He had been just another weapon aiming to kill for the sake of money, for the sake of nothing at all. But Master, he trusted him so much that it almost was unbearable. Their lives were now deeply connected with a tight red string. Obi wondered if he was the only one of them who was able to see it. He was able to see how much light would fill those sky blue eyes when the prince would laugh, he was able to see how innocent he looked when he was falling asleep on his desk surrounded by papers of any kind. It was odd to admit it but inside his heart he knew, he had missed Master. He had missed teasing him so much, the reactions of Miss were amusing as well but she could never get so flustered like the prince did. It was quite adorable actually. He should totally tease him as soon as he arrives.

Those blues at some point he started being memorized by them. He did try to laugh it away, telling himself that such dangerous feelings shouldn’t creep into his heart but their warmth melted the ice wall he had raised to protect himself ever since he was a child. He had been so sure that nobody would care about his problems, his well-being, anything related to him really. He was just yet another tool…but it wasn’t the same for them. They saw him for who he was, they saw him as their friend and companion, they saw him as someone who had value as a human being. He could remember the concerned expressions, the forgiveness in those eyes and also the acceptance.

‘You don’t need to hold back around us. I trust you Obi.’ when he had been faced with those words, he had been unable to form any himself. The sound of his own heartbeat echoed in his ears and those golden eyes widened. He couldn’t believe it.

“Master…that really took me by surprise saying such things,are you drunk?’ was his reaction and it caused yet another stupid loop of teasing and laughing yet the warmth in his chest took hours to slowly fade away. That night he would tug on his new silver necklace,proof of his new rank as a knight. All of this has been  so surreal.Almost too much for him to take.

His attention was snapped back to reality, escaping from the long memory trip he had been pulled to as he travelled when his horse stopped suddenly. He blinked only to realize, he had arrived at the outer parts of the capital. His lips twitched and now he was wearing a bright smile. He entered and looked over at the many shops that were closed right now as it was nighttime. Ah, the bar he liked to visit was bustling with life, the sound of music managed to even reach his ears and he couldn’t help but laugh. He would certainly pay it a visit.

It didn’t take long for him to reach the castle gates, there he saw a familiar pair of guards and greeted them with a wide smile. Soon, he was allowed to enter the palace, even if it was such a late hour, Obi wondered if Master had already fallen asleep. He decided to play a small game. He climbed on the tree that was nearby and smoothly landed on the balcony. He rested his back against the window, listening. Silence followed. He narrowed his eyes, was Master elsewhere? He played a little with the lock and done! He opened the balcony door as quietly as he could and took a look around the room. Not many things had changed, ah his favourite spot to sleep was still there as well! Just then the sound of slow breathing reached his ears and then he saw him. Fallen asleep across the smaller desk with his white hair being caressed by the night wind was his master. For a moment, he wondered if he should leave and actually let him sleep, but on the other hand, his fingers twitched and without realizing he was soon standing next to the sleeping prince.

Slowly those hazy blues fluttered open and Obi froze on the spot. He had woken him up!

“Obi?” Zen spoke, his voice still heavy with sleep, sounding like temptation to his knight’s ears, the prince blinked a few times slowly as he tried to lean against his chair and he stared Obi in his eyes as if trying to realize if he was actually there “I am still half asleep…Obi shouldn’t be here yet after all..” the young prince yawned as he stretched “Damn it falling asleep while reading the letters was a bad idea.” with that he stood up and then bumped straight to Obi who had been unable to move still. Eyes looked up in confusion.

“Obi, you are actually here?” the black haired man couldn’t help it anymore a rich chuckle escaped him as Zen took a few steps back staring at him like he was a ghost.

“Yes, Master, Obi is here at your service! I can’t believe you missed me so much that you thought you dreamed of me!” he exclaimed with his chuckles now turning to full blown laughing. Now that woke up Zen completely.

“Well you were supposed to arrive tomorrow morning! And I didn’t dream of you!” he fell on the sofa with a huff “So how long have you been here? Did you greet Mitsuhide and Kiki yet?”

“Nope! You are the first one I am seeing here, isn’t that special Master?” A sigh escaped the prince’s lips. Obi was really impossible, wasn’t he? He shook his head.

“Very special indeed.” then he noticed that the room was colder than usual and frowned slightly. Just then, he heard the balcony door closing and he turned to glare at his knight, his eye twitching “Obi, did you come from the balcony again?” his voice was laced with annoyance and something else Obi couldn’t exactly pin-point. He rubbed the back of his neck and wore a sheepish smile.

“Uhh, I thought it would be better so I could surprise you?”

“You never learn, do you?” an awkward laugh followed that remark and Zen looked at his knight “Well I can’t say that I am surprised, I actually expected you to come in such a way…Also Obi.” their eyes met again and now a smile was across Zen’s face.

“Yes, Master?” A fond look appeared on the prince’s handsome face and the softness in his eyes for that instant made the stars shine even brighter.

“Welcome back.” those simple words caused the older male to stiffen slightly and for his throat to dry. It only took two words to render him useless and this time his smile was the most genuine one he had shown in a while.

“I am back Master.” dimples appeared on his face from how wide he was smiling.Zen nodded and yawned.

“I know you must have a lot of things you want to talk about but they can wait until morning, sleeping in the desk wasn’t the most comfortable position and today was an exhausting day so I am going to head back to sleep.”

“Ehhh.” a disappointed whine left the knight and the prince glared at him.

“It can wait, I am sure. I will be able to understand better what you want to say anyway in the morning, I am really tired now.” he stood up and Obi watched his every step until he reached the bed “You should go to sleep as well, your new room is nearby isn’t it?” the white haired male added as he pulled the covers. As soon as he was under them, he let out a small sigh, feeling the soft mattress under his body was heaven. He closed his eyes and was drifting off to land of dreams once again until the sound of something landing on the bed made him let out a groan. He opened his eyes to see Obi sitting next to him.

“What are you doing?” Zen asked very much done.Obi grinned at him.

“It will soon be day, I will just stay here until you wake up.”

“Don’t. Go to your own room.”

“Eh, Master you are no fun.”

“I don’t want to see your face right after I wake up. And I am sure you will fall asleep too, you travelled quite a bit to reach Wistal, so go and have a proper rest,idiot.” with that he pushed Obi’s side weakly and the other laughed slightly.

“But sleeping next to you is something I missed, Master!”

“Don’t say it, like it was a common occurrence! You just would fall asleep on my bed doing what you please! Gosh, I am too tired for this.” Obi let out a laugh and stood up.

“Well, if you insist, I guess I will go to my own room. See you in the morning Master.” Zen couldn’t help but grin at his knight.

“You say that but you will probably wake up in the noon.”

“Oops, busted?” a snicker escaped the prince and he closed his eyes.

“Goodnight,Obi.”

“Goodnight, Master.” his eyelids slowly closed and Zen drifted to sleep yet again. Obi leaned against the door for a bit, his heart beating having accelerated so much from this small interaction that he couldn't take it. This feeling…this relief, this happiness….did he deserve it? That was what he wondered as he also was pulled into the land of dreams a bit later. That night, his dreams were the most pleasant ones in a while, he dreamt of standing in a snowy street of Lyrias with Zen at his side admiring the beauty of the little shops and dancing lanterns. Maybe someday…his dream would come true…

There were many things Obi wanted to do and he had all this time to make them reality. And that was all that mattered.

The following morning, light footsteps woke him up, but he pretended to still be asleep. He heard an amused huff.

“He was so impatient yesterday but look at him sleeping so peacefully.” a familiar voice uttered clearly amused “Oh well it’s fine. We still have time.” with that he sat into the nearby chair and looked over at his sleeping friend “You know what Obi…I think I did miss you a little bit. Gosh, what am  I even saying? Good thing he is asleep.” Obi couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face at those words. That was the best way to wake up. Words of appreciation by the one he hoped to hear from the most.

“So you did miss me, hm?” Zen jolted up blushing, his eyes wide.

“You were awake?!”

“Hahhaha!! Master your face is hillarious!!! You need to take a look in the mirror ahhaha!!”

“Obi, forget what you heard and shut up!!”

“Sorry, cant do!~”

And yet another lively morning began full of love and laughter.

The end

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

Noble Lines, Chapter 16

@septhi-draw - MOAR PRESENTS! :D

“Why did you do it?”

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.

“Fair Solstice,” he breathes.

[heartamplifier]

ANS Valentines Gift Exchange →  Beth Hi Beth! We haven't known each other for long but I hope you enjoy Obi being his handsome self and that we'll get more opportunities to talk! Happy Valentines! ✧・ﾟ: *✧

[ansgiftexchange]

There will not be a gift exchange this year...

because

there will be a 2019 Valentine’s Day exchange instead!

Get ready!! Sign-ups will be posted the first of December!

[promptos-smile]

ANS Valentine’s Gift Exchange - ZenYuki gift for nerdykdragon

I hope you like it! Happy Valentine’s day! ^-^

[eijunes]

zenyuki + touch

ans valentines gift for @starmakerneo, happy valentines day! c: 

[shirayuhki]

“I’ll be depending on you from now on, Obi.”

Happy Valentines Day, @claudeng80 !! ♡♡