#i saw it right after kai's death and distrusting him for nearly all of the game even after i opened my heart again

[datastate]

it’s very funny that my fav from yttd is kai because full honesty the moment sara confirmed he was the stalker i was ready to reach through the screen and slaughter him. i was disappointed we didn’t have any more bullets at the time, and now look at me here...! writing a kai lives au.

[punkpoemprose]

A Convenient Arrangement- Part 1

Universe: Canonverse Arranged Marriage AU 

Word Count: 5333

Rating: T (It’s clearly implied that sex is a societal expectation but it’s not written in)

Notes: Happy Unbirthday Anna @upthenorthmountain! I hope you like this arranged marriage AU. I was trying to get some mutual pining in there, but it was running away on me and ended up twice as long as planned without getting even half as much in as I wanted. I hope you’ll excuse my run away writing though. I can’t help myself!

He’d never asked for this. Hadn’t even known that he was involved until a full unit of royal guard soldiers broke through a copse of trees on the edge of the clearing where he’d made his little home, half congratulatory, half confused as to how to treat him. They hadn’t known how to address him, or how to tell him he didn’t really have much of an option but to go with them, because he was about to marry their princess.  

There’d been some form of chaos in the kingdom he’d missed, up safe in the mountains as he was. He heard rumors of an upheaval at the Queen’s coronation ball, distrust amongst the people that stemmed from the Queen, Queen Elsa, having magical abilities and some kind of attempted murder at the hands of a foreign born Prince who had been trying to marry the Princess. The Princess he’d never met. The Princess he’d be marrying before even meeting.

It had been a lottery. Every unmarried man between the Princess’s own age of 18 and 30 was included, common folk, the ones who were afraid of their new Queen and wary of the aristocracy with all that had unfolded. It was meant to be a way to calm the masses, to allay their fears. Nothing made people so rapturously joyful as a royal wedding, or so he’d been told. He hadn’t even known that he’d been included, he didn’t even know that the crown had ever heard of him. He was just a mountain hermit for all intents and purposes, an ice harvester with a reindeer and an adopted family no one could know about. He wasn’t built to marry a Princess. He didn’t want to marry a Princess.

He knew that he should be overjoyed, after all marrying into the royal family would give him access, resources, a voice that he’d never imagined having, but so much time had been spent searching for him in the mountains that by the time he made it to the castle, he was being shoved into rooms to wash and dress in unfamiliar clothes that frankly, barely fit him. He didn’t feel anything close to joy as he stared at himself in a mirror. Some palace servant whose purpose and title he didn’t know, had cut his hair and smoothed it back against Kristoff’s annoyed protests. He didn’t look like himself, he was about to meet his wife, on the altar, and he didn’t even recognize his own face.

It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t recognize him either, nor him her. None of it mattered really. He was just an unwilling participant in what would undoubtedly be a sham marriage of convenience. The Princess needed to marry someone common to please the people, and he was about as common as they came.

He felt a bit like a lamb being lead to the slaughter when a knock came at the door.

***

Anna was struggling to keep the bile down. She’d been bathed in rose water, powdered, primped and dressed in a gown of beautiful cream silk, but when she stared into the mirror all she could see was the dark circles they couldn’t hide under her eyes. She looked more like a cleverly dressed corpse than a Princess and a bride. She hadn’t eaten in days, not since Prince Hans of the Southern Isles had nearly succeeded in his plan to marry Anna and have her and her sister killed to take over the throne. She hadn’t slept either, picturing again and again the way she’d just walked into his trap and how she’d only been saved from it by her sister exposing her abilities to the world. She hadn’t spoken much to Elsa in the time since, only enough to consent to this arrangement to help calm their citizenry.

She’d imagined thousands of times what she would look like as a bride, how she’d feel when she married someone for love like her parents had. She stared at herself, a ghost in a wedding gown, her heart aching and screaming against the predicament she’d put them in and the fantasies she’d had since she was a child felt juvenile. She’d been stupid, she was being stupid.

She’d managed to keep herself from crying, to hold it all in and direct the pain in her heart to her gut. She could feign illness when it was all over that way. Maybe whatever man they’d brought to wed her would be kind enough to let an ill woman skip her wedding night. She wasn’t holding her breath though.

His name was Kristoff, that much she remembered. She’d thought at first they’d said Christopher, but a maid had been kind enough to correct her later. Kristoff Bjorgman. He was an ice harvester, and blessedly just three years her elder. She couldn’t imagine having to marry someone much older than him, but if she was being honest with herself she couldn’t imagine being married to him either.

She didn’t even know what he looked like, but she had imagined someone terrifying in her head. He’d be hulking, manner less, and cruel. Maybe he’d be attractive, but not in the well-polished way that she’d imagined for many years, and even if he was nice to look at, even if he wasn’t the beast her sleep-deprived mind was inventing, there was no promise that he would ever come to love her.

He was from the mountains, he’d not even known he’d been included in the lottery and from what she heard the maids whispering, he had no interest in marrying her. She couldn’t blame him. All he knew of her was that she was a Princess and that she was taking away his freedom to choose a bride. Of course, she was told by the royal advisors and anyone else who had a hand in the arrangement that he’d come willingly. Who wouldn’t want to marry a Princess after all?

She felt like her stomach was going to spill itself, though it contained nothing, when she heard a knock on the door. It was time.

She tried to keep her breathing level, to walk with poise as she was directed out the door. She could feel the tears coming as she looked back on her bedroom, the place she’d spent her childhood dreaming of this day. She’d never guessed then that dreams could quickly become nightmares.

***

Kristoff felt choked by his collar. It was too tight, and his throat was even tighter still. Breathing felt laborious in a way that he’d only experienced once, after a fall that knocked all the air from his lungs. He hoped that the assembled guests could tell how eager he was to be done with it all, he hoped they knew that this wasn’t something he wanted.

There were common folk and gentry before him with few familiar faces, some merchants he’d seen in the market before were staring at him with envy. He wished he could tell him that he’d be more than willing to trade with them or any of their sons. He wished that he could walk out of the room, get Sven from the castle stables and pretend that none of this was happening. If he weren’t worried about being hung for it, for slighting a princess, he would.

Arendelle had always been a good place to live. The royals thought of the people, and from what he knew of them and the country’s history, they were not unkind. Perhaps it was an option, but no. Misanthropic as he was, he knew that there were people for whom this marriage was important. It meant something, it meant stabilizing tensions, and so long as Queen Elsa was a good a ruler as her parents had been, he was content to do his part.

Content, he supposed, was a stretch. A better word might be resigned, like a man being put to death.

It wasn’t as if he’d had a sweetheart or anything. He’d just never planned to marry at all. He liked the simple life he made for himself in the mountains, he liked relying on himself and on his adoptive family. He didn’t need companionship beyond that. He didn’t need the castle coffers, he didn’t want to dress in clothes like the ones he’d been squeezed into, his shoulders were already aching over the way the coat he wore tugged at him. He’d just wanted to be left alone.

But he wasn’t alone. He’d spent so much time in his own thoughts, thinking about how much he didn’t want to be where he was standing that he hadn’t noticed everyone in the room standing. They’d already knelt when the Queen came in, taking a solitary seat at the front of the room such that while the day was her sisters, she was still the center of attention, her right as Queen. Now though, no one was kneeling, but instead they stood to get a better look at the white and cream veiled figure striding down the red velvet runner that covered the floor in the aisle between the pews.

His Princess. The woman who was to be his wife.

***

She was still holding back tears, reminding herself to breathe as she walked to the sanctuary doors. It wasn’t the wedding she’d imagined. Her parents had died years ago now, there was no one to guide her to the man waiting for her at the end of the aisle beyond the door. Or she’d thought as much. Her sister had offered, her face betraying every ounce of pain that Anna felt, when Anna had reminded her, as kindly as she could, that as Queen, she’d need to be in the room before her.

When he doors were pushed open by the awaiting guards, Anna was surprised to feel a solid and comforting form at her side, taking her arm gently. She turned to see Kai, the head butler, the man who had known her since she was a girl, taking up place at her side to walk her down the aisle. She saw sadness in his eyes as he smiled apologetically at her. It was enough to bring her some small comfort when she turned to face the room that had opened before her.

There were people standing. She felt their eyes on her and she wished more than anything that it could have been a private affair. Maybe then she would have been allowed to cry, maybe then she would have been allowed to meet her betrothed first. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel so hollow inside.

She focused on moving her feet, on holding her bouquet so that she didn’t drop it, on breathing and on not crying.

Don’t trip. Breathe. Hold it in. Don’t trip. Breathe. Hold it in. Don’t trip.

Her mind volleyed commands at her body as she moved down the aisle, grateful for Kai’s presence at her side until they reached the end of the aisle and was forced to leave her at the stairs before the altar. She strode up it herself, carefully. The man waiting there for her didn’t move to assist her, and she did her best to not look at him at all, sure that if she did, all her carefully constructed walls would fall down.

Breathe. Hold it in. Look somewhere else. Don’t let him know you’re terrified. Get through. Survive. Make your parents proud. Make Elsa proud. Fix the problem you caused.

The assembled guests were seated, and while she could feel their excitement, the room felt somber to her. Little in the way of decorations had been attended to in the rush of arranging the lottery and now the subsequent wedding. There were white roses and ribbons and candles, but they felt too few and far between, too colorless to bring a brightness to the old chapel.

She’d always imagined sunflowers. She loved sunflowers.

The priest was speaking, discussing something at length about duty and how the bond between the palace and the people was one blessed by God and so this marriage would be too. She was just glad he was mostly avoiding the topic of love. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to keep herself from running out if he had.

She knew that she missed something he’d said when she felt hands grip hers.

She almost jumped from the contact, barely holding the reaction back when she realized that they belonged to her soon to be husband.

Vows. They were being asked to say their vows.

They hadn’t written their own given that they didn’t know each other and certainly didn’t have the time.

Her attention shifted to the feel of his hands on hers, making it unavoidable to focus on him, as hard as she’d been trying to avoid it. He wasn’t wearing gloves. It probably shouldn’t surprise her as much as it did, she wasn’t wearing them, but she simply wasn’t used to being around men who didn’t wear gloves. She could feel the rough callouses on his fingers, on his palm. He was not like any man she’d ever met.

She allowed herself to direct her eyes up, taking in his face for the first time. He had a boyish look to him that made her feel a little less afraid than she had been. He wasn’t some terrifying beast of a man, despite his size which was quite immense compared to her, he was just a tired looking boy a bit older than her who seemed to be just as uncomfortable as she was, well as he was hiding it.

Her eyes caught his and she felt his hands leave hers to pull her veil back. She did her best to compose her face as he did so, knowing that everyone, him included were about to get a very good look at her expression.

His movements were quick but gentle, and she was grateful when the veil was behind her and his hands went back to hers again. It was one step closer to the end.

Her eye caught his, and her heart skipped. His eyes were brown like the earth he undoubtedly worked with his callouses. For a moment they flashed a sort of soft look, but once it was time for them to say their vows, it was gone.

***

He was beginning to grow tired of the pomp and circumstance of the ceremony. They’d said their vows and while he’d heard of exchanges of rings being popular, they did not engage in the practice. Likely, he thought, they wouldn’t even know what size ring to select for him, making the gesture impossible. Still, however, the priest continued to speak on the importance of their marriage, that they should respect and care for each other and about a thousand other sentimentalities that fell flat to him given that he knew nothing about his bride.

He did know that she had blue eyes, and that they looked sad. He could hardly blame her for being disappointed, but he did try to focus on something else. She had freckles on her nose and brilliant red hair. Her lips were set in a false smile that he tried his best to mimic. Despite the fact that she was a Princess, brought up in a life of luxury, he could tell from the way she was standing tall and no longer avoiding his eye that she was strong. That much, he thought, he might be able to grow to like and respect if not love.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Kristoff had been waiting to hear the words. Relief and terror flooded him simultaneously as he realized that this would be the end of the ceremony, but also the start of a marriage.

He felt her hands start to tremble in his, and he held them tighter in his own, trying to hide it. He wasn’t sure what brought him to do it, but he thought that if he were her, he’d want to seem as strong as she was trying to be, and a shake, involuntary as it was, would show fear and sadness. It was a wedding gift to her, to help her be strong. He had nothing else to give her.

He leaned in, trying to give her an apologetic look before pressing his lips to hers.

They would never have to do it again.

***

The feast after the wedding had been a strange thing. Under normal conditions Anna thought that she might have enjoyed the celebration, but as she looked around the room she’d only been reminded of her failings. It was too much like the coronation ball where she’d met Hans and nearly ruined everything her family ever worked to build. Her life now, she supposed, was something like a ruin, but when she sat at a high table, pretending to eat bits of each course, she’d been able to pretend that she was acting out a scene from a play. She was a blushing bride, she was accepting praise, she was having a lovely meal.

She couldn’t pretend anymore.

She shivered, quaking, sitting on the edge of her bed waiting for the man, Kristoff, her husband, to come to her door. She had a wifely duty to fulfil, nothing more and nothing less, and she simply hoped that he wouldn’t do anything overly improper or painful to her. Frankly she wasn’t certain of what he might ask of her. She knew the mechanics, she knew what the act entailed in its most basic form, but she’d heard things that frankly had her terrified.

Her bridal night gown was still draped over her vanity chair. She’d not been able to bring herself to change into it. It felt too final that way, like she was giving in to the fact that she’d being laying back and putting her mind to other work. She’d sent away her maids, lest they force her into it.

A knock came on the door, and she didn’t know what to say. She felt like one of the statues in the halls, immobile, unable to react in anyway. It would be easier if she was, she thought. Then at least, she wouldn’t have to see what was happening to her, she wouldn’t have to feel it.

“Can… can I come in?”

She already recognized his voice, although he hadn’t spoken much after the ceremony other than to thank the staff and accept the well wishes of guests and witnesses with a sort of unapologetic gruffness that she was begging to associate with him. She hoped beyond all things that she’d not see it in action, rather hoping for more of the sort of gentle kindness he’d shown subtly in the ceremony.

He’d held her steady when she’d fallen apart, when she’d started to shake. It was something she’d been replaying in her head along with the memory of a gentle and chaste kiss that he’d pressed to her mouth. It gave her some small phantom hope that maybe he’d show her some tenderness in the act of their consummation. It was, she thought, the most she could hope for.

“Yes,” she said, her voice quiet and small, even to her ears.

She was surprised that he’d even heard her speak when she heard the door handle turn, though she supposed that it might have also been a coincidence, that he’d simply tired of waiting in the moments after her quiet acceptance. She wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t have much patience for her. She didn’t have much patience for herself as it was.

She stared at her feet instead of looking to see him come through the door. She listened to the sound of the door closing again, locking behind him. She listened to and counted the footfalls that took him from the door to her side, all twelve of them, and couldn’t bring herself to look up when he drew close. Instead she reached behind herself, fingers going to the ribbons of her gown’s bodice and tugging them loose.

Better, she thought, to get it over with.

“Stop.”

She froze. He didn’t sound pleased. The gruffness in his voice had returned in force and she knew that she’d displeased him in some way. She thought that such a thing shouldn’t upset her, but it did.

“Don’t.”

The words were simple, but foreign to her. Why would he not want her to undress? Something in her stomach dropped to think that maybe she wasn’t pretty enough for him. Perhaps, she thought, he wanted to put out the candles and bank the fire before bedding her. She’d been told by others that she was lovely, but she had never quite believed it herself, particularly not after how Hans had played her like a fiddle.

She felt the mattress compress under his added weight as he sat at her side. She hadn’t expected for him to sit, and it was enough to make her look from her feet to his face. She was surprised to see that he didn’t look angry or disgusted, or annoyed, but rather that he appeared to be sad. She caught his eye and his expression softened further, like he understood her confusion and hurt and fear. It struck her in that moment that if there was anyone that would understand, it was him.

“I can put the lanterns out if you prefer,” she said, her voice just as weak as it had been. She tried to hazard a smile, but she knew it just came off as exhausted and small. She saw her failure to fake interest on his face.

“No,” he replied, “you can change if you wish, but I just want you to know that… I have no expectations of you. I’m sure that you were told I would… I know we’re expected to… but I don’t want that.”

She swallowed hard, relief and anxiety flooding her system simultaneously. That she wouldn’t have to bare herself to him, a total stranger, was a kindness. That he, her husband, didn’t want her on their wedding night, was painful. She’d not been wanted in a very long time, and she supposed it shouldn’t surprise her that someone who was forced to wed her would change that fact.

“Oh,” she replied, “I thought…”

He sighed and laid back on the bed.

“I know.”

***

She looked too young to be a bride. He’d wondered briefly at the alter if she always looked so frail, so much like a bird, but when she’d eaten nothing at the wedding feast, he’d been given his answer. Already he’d planned to go to her bedchamber and request nothing, but at the altar, at the meal, his mind had been made up.

She hadn’t picked him as a husband, nor had he chosen her for a wife, but he’d cherish her, nevertheless. He’d protect her and learn to be her husband if in title only. He deserved the choice to do that at least, and he thought that if she couldn’t have someone more deserving of her than he was, he’d at least try to live up to the role.

“We’re going to stay here for a while,” he said gently, trying not to frighten her, trying to make himself prone and small and anything but the intimidating large beast of a man he knew he was. “Then when everyone thinks we’ve… finished what is expected of us, I’ll leave and get something for you to eat and you won’t have to see me again for the evening.”

She looked at him with shock, and he was comforted that it was at least not the nervousness she’d shown him when he first entered the room. It was something at least.

“Why?”

She sounded a bit incredulous, but her expression was softer, more confused.

“Because you didn’t eat at dinner and I think that maybe you haven’t eaten in a while.”

She shook her head, and it took him a moment to understand that she wasn’t asking him why he was planning on bringing her something to eat, and that she was more curious as to his overall motives.

“Why aren’t you… I’m sure you must be angry, or at least upset… unless… well you’re happy to be marrying up or something, but you didn’t seem to be before. I just… I thought that you’d want to take what is yours to take.”

He tried not to bristle visibly. She didn’t know him, he couldn’t possibly blame her for thinking that he’d do everything she’d undoubtedly been warned he would.

“You,” he said, weighing his words, shifting up on one arm to get a better look at her eyes again. They were beautiful, bright and full of emotion. He could already read her feelings on her face. It was simple when she was so unguarded. “You are not property… and I don’t deign to take anything that isn’t offered willingly. I can’t take something from you just because we’re married.”

She seemed to calm at that, her expression shifting slightly to curiosity and then relief. It was almost enough to make him fall back more comfortably on her mattress. He supposed it wasn’t entirely true. Space on her incredibly soft mattress probably wasn’t his to take either, but that she hadn’t chided him yet for laying upon it was a comfort. He’d had a long day and was looking forward to some time to lay back and let his muscles untense a bit.

“I wasn’t unwilling,” she said, so softly he almost didn’t hear her.

He frowned at the ceiling and then let his eyes close for a moment. Despite how quietly she’d said it, there was something resolute to her tone, the strength he’d seen simmering behind her eyes at their ceremony cropping up again. He had a feeling that if she became a bit more comfortable with him, she would be downright feisty.

“Maybe,” he offered, “But you weren’t willing either. Just because you don’t say no, doesn’t mean you’re saying yes.”

He could feel her lay back on the mattress at his side, and he thought that the pins in her hair must be poking at her scalp. He thought that if they had only been given a few days to get to know each other, that he might have taken her hair down for her. She seemed like she might have liked that.

“What if I never say yes?” she asked, “Surely you want a son… what if I never consent to give you that?”

He shrugged, feeling her eyes on him though he couldn’t see her looking.

“If you never say yes, you never say yes. I haven’t thought much about children, but if I ever wanted a son there are more ways than one to build a family Anna.”

***

Her heart leapt at his words, and perhaps most at the sound of her name being said in his voice.

Never. He’d never make her lie with him if she chose not to. She knew that she shouldn’t trust him at his word, especially as it would mean that their marriage would never be consummated if she chose, but despite her recent misplaced trust, there was something about Kristoff that made her want to try believing him. He was already being so much more gracious towards her than she expected he would be, that she thought he should be.

“More ways than one?”

He let out a sigh that was tinged with an almost chuckle. That too made her heart feel warm in unfamiliar ways.

“Well, we have some time to talk… guess we should get to know each other a bit… I was adopted. So if I wanted a child and you didn’t want to engage in the practice of making one… I suppose I would adopt a boy. Or maybe a girl? Carrying on my name isn’t possible given our children would take your name, but don’t worry yourself about it, it was never a priority for me anyway.”

She thought about what he said for a moment. She’d never met anyone who was adopted before. She thought that maybe she should ask him about his family, but she was afraid that if she did, he’d ask her about hers, and she was feeling too shattered for that conversation to take place right away, even if he probably already knew most of it.

“Anything else I should know? Just while we’re talking…”

“Depends on what you think you should know. My favorite color? Favorite food? Best friend’s name? Shoe size?”

There was a smile to his voice when he replied, and Anna let herself close her eyes when she heard it. He was warming to her, and she let out a small but genuine laugh to show him that she was warming to him in return.

“Sure, start there and I’ll tell you mine.”

His smile was beautiful in her head, but she couldn’t open her eyes to see if he was sporting it laying at her side. The softening of their demeanors, the quiet conversation they were carrying on was all that was keeping her from weeping.

She felt lucky, that of all the men in the Kingdom she could have ended up with, it was someone as kind as he seemed to be.

“Only if you promise not to laugh when I tell you my best friend is a reindeer.”

She smiled. He was a bit odd maybe, but there was a sincerity to his tone that relaxed her, allowed her to open up.

“Only if you promise not to pity me when I tell you I don’t have any friends at all.”

There was a long silence after she said it, and for a moment she was afraid that the tentative bond between them had already snapped, but then she felt it. His rough hand had slid across the space between them, his fingers brushing experimentally across her palm, offering a gentle sort of touch that made her want to weep.

She took it and the soft squeeze she felt was far more intimate than anything he could have done to her with her wedding gown off.

“What if…” she started, feeling half mad for asking, “What if a day comes where I say yes?”

Returning to the original topic seemed to throw him for a moment, but she felt his thumb gently brush against her hand before her answered.

“Then I’ll have to say yes too… and I think it will take me some time to get to that place. I hope that doesn’t disappoint you, but I think I’d like to get to know my wife before we come anywhere close to that.”

Her heart fluttered at the thought. He did want her then. She took comfort in that, and in the fact that he wanted to get to know her, to build a relationship.

“Kristoff,” she said, testing his name on her tongue and finding that it felt right to say.

He turned to her expectantly, and she rolled to meet his gaze, her fingers squeezing against his weakly, “I’m sorry you were pulled into this… but I just want you to know, even if it’s selfish of me to think… I’m glad that I’m married to someone like you. I wasn’t expecting kindness.”

He gave her a look that seemed to be a mix between sadness and appreciation. There was a soft almost smile playing on his lips, and she tried to give it back.

“I never thought about marrying… but Anna… I think I’m going to like being married to you.”

The honesty that he carried in his voice with such ease was what made her inch, ever so slightly closer to his side, and for the first time since her sister’s coronation, or perhaps even before that, she felt like maybe things were going to be alright.

[bluepunkmon]

Super late to this but I wrote another smt4 fic, The Word You’re Looking For Is “Guilty”. A03 link to that here, and the full story is below the cut

Rated G, only possibly objectionable things are some awkward kisses and teenage angst.

The beer a rather inebriated Ring of Gaea member had insistently given Flynn burned stale and rancid on his tongue. He couldn’t stomach more than a few sips before he permanently set it to the side.

The cacophony of people talking, shouting, and even singing in the crowded hall had the same effect on his heart that the alcohol had on his taste buds, even from his place standing at the back of the room. The party he was currently trying to avoid had initially been for the Gaeans to celebrate regained territory after a drawn out dispute with the Ashura-kai. Once news got around that Flynn and Walter had come to work with Lilith, however, they were more than happy to extend the celebration to incorporate them as well.

The Ring of Gaea were distrusting and hostile towards outsiders, but once you proved yourself and joined them, any past transgressions an animosity were instantly washed away. And Flynn was more than a little bit surprised at how quickly he was accepted; he was scarred by plague and frail, the opposite of what typical Gaean member looked like. Still, he couldn’t deny the relief at having so many allies around him after being seen as an enemy by almost every living being in Tokyo. It reminded Flynn somewhat of the camaraderie of the Samurai of Mikado, but without the pressures and boundaries of previous social station hanging over everyone’s’ heads.

Walter had taken to them immediately. The Gaeans were cut from same cloth as him, had the same recklessness and dissatisfaction with the status quo, and he fit in with an ease he hadn’t had with Samurai and Prentices in Mikado. And his new clothes, the orange robes worn by most Ring of Gaea members, helped him blend in even more. Flynn too had been offered a set of robes but had politely refused, instead keeping the clothes he’d acquired soon after arriving in Tokyo which he’d worn even longer than his Samurai uniform.

He watched from the back of the hall as Walter drank and laughed with a group Gaean members around his own age. An outside observer would never have guessed he’d only been part of them for less than a day. The sight of it made Flynn smile softly. After watching the scene a bit longer, he left.

They’d been given rooms to sleep in until it was time to leave with Lilith for Camp Ichigaya the next day. He didn’t how much time they had until then, because he couldn’t tell how late it was. Flynn still had difficulty determining time in this realm, as it had more to do with timers on machines than the absent sun and stars.

The residential wing was all but deserted. He passed Walter’s room and entered his own several doors down. It was small and cool, almost cold, and the only things it contained were an old bed and a small barred window.

Flynn slipped off his jacket and hung it on the bedpost. He pulled out his hair tie, letting his hair fall loose down his shoulders, and lay down on the mattress, staring up at the cracked and peeling ceiling. In the absence of outside stimuli, the dread that first set in during the audience with Lilith made itself known again and squeezed his chest like a vise.

He’d been confident in his choice at first, but after the audience with Lilith, he just didn’t know anymore. Complicating matters, he still didn’t trust Lilith at all, as her actions had both directly and indirectly led to so many deaths, including Issachar’s. Flynn was at a precipice, but he could not tell if there was still time to turn away or he was already plummeting to the ground.

“Should have figured you’d be here,” a voice said.

Walter was standing in the doorway. Flynn was out of bed and on his feet almost instantly, mentally cursing himself for leaving his ally alone amongst the Gaeans. “What’s wrong?”

“What? No, everything’s fine. I just wanted to see where you went.”

Oh. He sat back down on the edge of the bed, feeling ridiculous for jumping to conclusions. Since Walter was here though, maybe could help ease the conflict warring in him. “Can I ask you something?”

Walter stared at him for a second, then closed the door and sat next to him on the bed. Flynn could smell alcohol on him, but his steps were steady and his eyes were clear. Normally he would be flustered, being this close to Walter, but there was too much else on Flynn’s mind to pat attention to it.

“Should we really open up the Expanse?” Flynn’s voice was always quiet, and now doubt muted it into a hoarse whisper.

Flynn studied Walter’s profile as he considered his answer. Finally, he spoke. “I know innocent people will die if this happens, but innocents are suffering and dying now with the way things are. If there’s a chance this action can make a fairer, better world where people don’t have to suffer like that, then I’ll take it.”

It was about what Flynn expected to hear and like he expected, it didn’t make the weight in his chest any lighter.

“It must sound strange to say it like this, but,” Walter grinned a bit, and his previous gravity had been replaced by brevity. “You understand how corrupt the world is, you’ve experienced it same as I have. You’re strong and clever, and people look up to you. If I had to do this with anyone at my side, I’m glad it was you, Flynn.”

Flynn couldn’t get enough air, and for reasons that had nothing to do with the lingering effects of his illness. He blinked a few times and turned away, obviously flustered. He was reading into things too much, letting his imagination twist words into what he wanted them to mean.

Silence enclosed them. Flynn wished for something to drink, water or even that terrible beer, anything to distract from how the room felt too small and stiflingly warm. Had they always been sitting this close?

Walter was looking at some thing just past Flynn’s head. He started to reach out to him. “Do you mind if I..?”

Flynn didn’t understand what he was asking and instead of clarifying, Walter finished reaching out and started to run his fingers through Flynn’s loose hair. He started at the back of Flynn’s head, gently combing his fingers down until his hair ended around his upper back, then repeated the gesture.

“I’ve wanted to try this for awhile. Why do you keep it so long?”

Flynn almost didn’t hear him. The gesture was unexpectedly soothing, and his eyes slid shut almost immediately. “No reason. I just like it this way,” he answered, his voice drowsy.

The hand combing through his hair stopped, cupping the back of his head. Flynn opened his eyes in time to see Walter’s considering gaze flicker from his eyes to his mouth.

Flynn’s denial came back in full force telling him that that look, and that touch, couldn’t possibly be what he thought it was. And he kept thinking that, even as Walter put his other hand on Flynn’s leg, and soft pressure from his hand pulled Flynn’s head forward as Walter leaned in, and only stopped thinking that when their mouths connected in a kiss.

His eyes closed automatically from the proximity. Something new and electric flashed through Flynn’s body and he was suddenly hyperaware of the heat Walter’s body gave off, how the rough sheets on the bed scratched his palms, and especially, especially the feeling of rough lips on his own. He did not mind the taste of Gaean beer nearly so much now.

But he didn’t know what to do in return. He’d never kissed anyone before. On guesswork he moved his hand to cup the side of Walter’s face and kissed him back, mirroring his movements, which were slower and more gentle than he thought they’d be whenever he imagined this. It was amateur, Flynn knew, but from the way the hand in his hair tightened and he was kissed back more insistently, he was probably doing something right.

All too soon Flynn’s lungs started to burn, and he broke the kiss to breathe. The embarrassment was almost as painful as the lack of air. He was pretty sure most people wouldn’t need to stop so quickly. Walter moved back a bit to give him space, though he looked far from upset.

“I was going to tell you how I felt, before I did something like that, but, I guess I got carried away.”

His eyes were bright and optimistic and Flynn wanted to share in that uncomplicated rush with him, but the weight in his chest would not be forgotten.

“Walter,” he started, and he saw how the hope faded in his eyes even from that one word. Too-familiar guilt speared Flynn through the heart. “I’m sorry, but, I can’t…”

“I… I see,” the former Prentice got to his feet. His shoulders were tense, and he wasn’t looking at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He left, and Flynn was alone in a room as cavernous and empty as a tomb.

He fell asleep eventually, but it was sporadic and fitful. He was relieved when a Gaean arrived early in the ‘morning’ to tell him it was time for them to leave. He ran into Walter as they both went to meet Lilith, and he spoke to Flynn like nothing at all unusual happened the night before.

They fought in tandem on the streets of Tokyo, and it was like nothing was wrong. It was in the quiet moments after a fight, or when there was nothing to fight, or when they were just walking, that the edged silence between them was most apparent. Some emotion numbed Flynn’s spirit, something alike to loneliness, or necessity. He needed to get a handle on it quickly, as he had a feeling he was going to become more than familiar with it in the future.