#finally some TLC to mix up with all the polticking and machinating

[traditional-with-a-twist]

xx. Beauty and Her Beast

@claudeng80  @bubblesthemonsterartist declaration of war, yesss! love that! (funny what an ambiguous symbol the ANS universe has for marriage proposals xP) and sooo true, Izana is not his best self right now! but I love to hear that his plan doesn't make sense. I’ll take that as encouragement that I'm getting his character right XD because his plans always seem crazy at first, don't they?

<<Previous || first arc || AO3 || Next>>

Shirayuki had lost her home once because a prince demanded of her more than she was willing to give.

She had never expected it to happen here.

She stumbles from the room. A strong sense pervades that her soul has left her body and hovers over it like an anxious bird.

Time runs backwards. 

She is once again staring down two dark and equally impassable roads: to walk away from everything, or to stay and lose it all just the same.

...

Obi is waiting for her in the passageway.

...

He first began to think something was wrong when she hadn’t returned to her office for the midday break. 

That old man Haruka was stern, but he was also punctual. However brief a respite he allowed Shirayuki, it wasn’t like him to cancel it entirely.

Memories of the interview with Kiki lingering in his mind, Obi began his search from the relative obscurity of the treetops.

Midway through his second circuit, he spotted her from a window.

The cant of her shoulders and the expression in her eyes raised his worst fears.

...

She didn’t jump when he appeared beside her, didn’t wonder at finding him indoors and practically on Izana’s doorstep. She only put out her hand in a mute appeal for his strength and support.

Obi falls into step beside her, stuffing down his apprehension for her sake. He accepted her extended fingers as if welcoming a wounded bird, cradling them in his palm. 

“Hey, Shirayuki,” he greeted her, forcing lightness into his tone, “your face is pale.”

Her eyelids flickered at the sound of her name.

...

When she had first asked Obi to address her by name, it had seemed only natural to do away with the past formalities between them. She hadn’t thought much of it.

Every time he spoke it, the sound took on a new resonance.

Now it touched her deep, deep in her core to hear this expression of trust and intimacy from a man she had been ordered to betray.

...

They are halfway down the hall when she staggers.

Shirayuki’s knees buckle, and he is there, one arm at her waist, sweeping her out of gravity’s grip and into his embrace.

His heart seizes with remembrance when their eyes meet.

...

It wasn’t so long ago that he had caught her mid-fall in the snowy courtyard of Fort Laxdo. 

Then her burden was boxes and crates, and it was easy to bear her up, hardly a flex to support her feather-light frame and stabilize her load.

Now something of another nature casts her down. 

He doesn’t know what good his muscles and knives will be against it; he doesn’t know where to begin.

Nonetheless, he swears himself to her in that moment, for the thousandth time, with every intention to do so a thousand times again.

Blood, breath, bone - they are hers to command.

...

Alone in the hallway, they are exposed and defenseless. At any moment, the guards patrolling the first prince’s wing might turn the corner and surprise them.

Shirayuki stirs as if to right herself, but she is trembling. Her legs won’t hold her.

Obi thinks no further.

...

Once upon a time, he had set the miss back on her feet and watched her walk away.

This time, he gathers her close.

Bundling the intended princess against his chest, Obi crosses the hall in two strides. Another breath, and they balance on the windowsill.

In the instant before they leap, Shirayuki throws her arms around his neck.

Then they are airborne.

...

The stones fall away; wind whistles; blue sky stretches overhead--blanketed abruptly by green.

They land safely among the branches.

Obi looses a sigh he hadn’t known he was holding. He has never felt comfortable in that place - every day less so, as Zen’s presence fades from it.

...

He settled his back against the bark - rough, solid, familiar - and makes a nest of his lap for Shirayuki to perch.

She has taken their sudden exit with composure, adjusting to their new surroundings without a murmur of protest.

After a moment of twisting and tugging to arrange her dress, she relaxes into the cradle of his knees. 

Her head droops to his shoulder.

...

“Did someone hurt you,” he asks quietly.

She tenses. “N-no…”

Imagine going to a dear friend to whom you have promised your whole self. Imagine raising even the idea of reneging on that promise.

Where can she begin? How can she possibly explain?

...

As he felt her hesitation, Obi plunged into their usual dance of question and halting reply.

He lacked Zen’s grace and intuition. Even with her wrapped in his arms, nestled as close as skin, there was a part of her he struggled to reach.

It was like catching a dust mote born on the breeze with his bare hands.

He could see the answer winking at him, but it hovered just out of reach. The harder he tried to grasp it, the more tenaciously it evaded him.

If he succeeded, it was usually by a chance change in the wind that blew the object of his efforts into his outstretched fingers.

...

The story emerges in bits and false starts. When he hears what has happened, Obi’s face darkens.

In Shirayuki’s presence, he has been enamored, uncertain, teasing, concerned. Something entirely separate entered his expression now:

It was the shadowed, narrow-eyed look of a ruthless man on the hunt.

...

For Shirayuki, Izana’s intervention had taken on the qualities of a cataclysmic event: reversing time, upending the solid ground beneath her feet.

She clung to whatever stability she could find, like a victim in a disaster zone, staring around her in bewilderment as she tried to make sense of the calamity.

One step beyond the shock was the awful necessity of wondering what she could salvage from the wreckage.

...

Obi read the situation differently: For him, Izana’s pronouncement meant nothing less than a calculated attack.

He felt the blow on multiple levels.

In his disinterested care for Shirayuki as a person, he revolted against the insult to her choices and threat to her happiness.

As a friend, he felt the offense as a further betrayal: not only of Shirayuki herself, but of the very person whose memory should hold the strongest claims for the first prince. Obi was no visionary, but it didn’t require genius to recognize that this was the opposite of what Zen would have wanted for her.

Finally, in his longing for Shirayuki, he felt the assault as anyone might when challenged by an unexpected rival - with raw, guttural anger.

...

For a long time, Obi had harbored no jealousy on Shirayuki’s behalf. 

Any inclinations he might have had in that direction were dissipated by the basic knowledge that he had no claim on her - nor any prospect of one.

Now it was different.

Now that they had pledged themselves to each other.

Now he had a claim to defend.

...

Any man who dared interpose himself might as well have voiced a desire to extract Obi’s heart from his chest. Either demand would have met with equal violence.

As the story and its implications became clear, caution fled. An iron will replaced it.

He would see an end to the first prince’s suit, no matter what it cost him.