#man i had so much obi & ryuu planned for this one but i had to cut for pacing

[sabraeal]

Keeping Up with the Joneses

[Read on AO3]

Written for @aeroplaneblues for her birthday! When I asked Anne what she would like for her birthday this year, she suggested we do a birthday exchange-- she drew me a wonderful piece for All Pain Turns to Medicine; and in return, she asked me for an AU I’d already been hoping to get an excuse to write: a Spy x Family AU!

Marta doesn’t often take the train, not at her age. Oh no, old women like her are sedentary creatures, staying in their gingham kitchens with their Wedgewood china while they wait for their children to call. Maybe they might get out for a walk, just to the market and back, to get dinner and see what they neighbors were up to. Why only last week, Dita’s youngest fell from a tree and broke his clavicle, and Lotte’s granddaughter eloped with the postman. Not the one from their village, of course; Arnie was seventy if he were a day, and due to work until the hour his poor body gave up the ghost-- probably delivering the post, too.

But today, she was supposed to be on the train. All fine and good for her; it’s been some time since she went into town, and even if she can’t afford any of the fancy frocks on King’s Street-- ah, Chancellor’s Street, now-- then she can at least get a good look at them. All she needs is a few minutes, and she’ll be able to whip them up with her own machine, maybe even make a second for her daughter, if it’s fashionable enough to please her.

The car lurches to a stop, but Marta’s used to the rhythm of it; she hardly drops a stitch. Back when she was a girl, it’d take a town or two for those big steam engines to slow to a stop, creaking and carrying on the entire time, great gouts of steam spewing from their stacks. Now they stop on a dime without so much as a by-your-leave.

She preferred it, to be honest. All these sleek engines were fine enough, but if you were going to ride faster than a horse could gallop, well, there was nothing wrong with a little drama. Well deserved, in her opinion.

Ah, but that’s not what the children like nowadays. No, it’s all clean lines, shiny and chrome, hurtling toward the future without a care for what came first. Why, when she was a young woman--

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

Marta glances up from her stitching, expecting the sort that’s usually heading toward the city, all shuttered eyes and wary expressions. Jaded, that’s what they call it, all above the finest suits the continent has to offer. Style over substance.

Instead, she’s met by wide eyes set over a wider smile, the sort of earnest innocence she hasn’t seen since she was a girl, not much older than the one in front of her. Her suit might be cut close and cinched like the ones in town, but put her in a skirt and shirt and she could have walked right off the farm.

“I’m sorry to bother you when you’re working so hard.” One neat hand gestures to the seat across from her. “But may I sit here?”

She should say no; there’s a body she’s waiting for, one supposedly getting on at this very stop. But still, Marta takes in that autumn red twisted above her tweed and tastes crisp in her mouth, the brisk breezes of her youth chapping her cheeks.

“Well,” she says, straightening on the vinyl. There’s plenty of room for another passenger, should one come along. “I don’t see why not.”

Those pretty eyes crinkle at the edges. “You’re too kind, Miss...?”

“Kino.” A lady doesn’t shake hands-- no matter what’s in fashion now-- but Marta does bob her head, a gesture the girl returns with an even sweeter smile. “Are you traveling far--?”

The speakers crackle overhead, a terrible noise. “Next stop,” it announces with a man’s hard voice, “Express to Tanbarun City. End of the line.”

“Ah,” Marta sighs. “I suppose not.”

Humor catches light in her eyes, setting all its facets sparkling. “It’s a long enough ride between these two stops, so I’ve heard. And I’ve already traveled quite a bit already.”

“Is that so?” She’s not in practice of putting down her stitching once she’s started, not even for the people she waits for, but there’s such a becoming flush to the girl’s cheeks, Marta can’t help but find herself drawn in. “What brings you all the way to town? Can’t imagine you’re going for the shopping, the way I am.”

“Oh, I’m afraid it’s not for anything interesting.” The girl waves a hand, too humble. “Just work.”

“Work?” Marta blinks, taking in that pretty suit again, unassuming with its olive tweed, and retakes her measure. “You might not think that’s remarkable, but when I was your age, a girl wasn’t allowed to have an occupation. Just a baby in each arm and house she kept for her husband. But here you are, going to the city.”

The young lady flushes; it’s not the precise sort of pink that’s considered pretty nowadays, but there’s something honest in it. “Oh, it’s nothing. Really!”

“Now what is it you do?” She has the sort of face that could sell flowers, or maybe cakes straight from the bakery window. School mistress wouldn’t be out of the question, save that the capital’s a long way to travel for that salary. “Keep shop? Oh, but you’re dressed so sharply, you must be a secretary for someone very important.”

Marta’s hardly prepared for the rueful smile she gives. “A doctor, actually. For the hospital at Lilias.”

Her mouth works. “A...a doctor. Oh my. At Lilias?” The foremost hospital in the country didn’t just hire anyone, not when the Chancellor was one of their patients. “That’s very...prestigious. Are you a, ah, pediatrician perhaps? Or maybe one of those, what do they call them? The skin people.”

“Dermatologists,” the young lady corrects, so polite. To think, she’s a doctor. She hardly looks old enough to sit at a bar, let alone save a life. “And no. I’m a gynecologist. And obstetrician, of course.”

“Oh my.” She might as well be a broken record for as much as she’s been saying that lately. “I hear that’s where the Chancellor sends his wife. Maybe you’ll see her, er...”

There’s no delicate way to complete that thought, no way to wish her success that wouldn’t imply something improper. Still, the woman smiles, wider this time, if a bit distracted. “I hope so, Mrs Kino.”

Marta’s hands twitch, reaching for her stitching if only for something to do. Anything to keep her eyes from wandering, to keep her from wondering whatever happened to the one she was supposed to meet, the one from--

“Approaching Tanbarun City. Final Stop, Tanbarun city,” the speaker cracks, loud enough to make her jump. “Please make sure to remove all your luggage before exiting the car.”

“Oh my, do you mind if I take that paper? The one just under your arm-- yes, there.” Two of her slender fingers resting on the paper’s edge, right where it reads TANBARUN CITY TIMES.

“Oh...” Marta stares down, looking at the bright red 14 written at the top, circled twice. “I’m afraid I’m simply...there’s someone...”

“Ah, of course.” Her eyelashes flutter, nervous, but those fingers don’t move. “But you see, I’m looking for an apartment. Do you think there might be one on White Street?”

Marta drags her gaze up, meeting those wide eyes, green as the fields in spring. If the girl hardly looked like a doctor, she looked even less like-- like--

Expect them on the train to Tanbarun City, the message had said yesterday morning, buried in a personal ad about tropical fish. Last stop before the capital. They’ll ask about an apartment on White Street.

“Oh dear.” Her arm lifts, numb. “You better go ahead then. I hear those ones sell like hotcakes the moment they open up.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m starting early.” Her mouth quirks as she takes the paper, more rueful than sly, but when she glances over it’s with genuine interest. “What is it you’ve been working on, Mrs Kino? I haven’t had the chance to take a very good look.”

“Bees,” she says, stilted, tipping the hoop toward her. “I’ve always quite liked them.”

“Bees,” the girl breathes with a nod. “Code B.”

Marta can only stare as she opens the paper, this girl with the face of her childhood, murmuring, “What’s the world come to when girls like you have to do jobs like this?”

Again, her mouth twists, regret in every wrinkle. “The one we live in.”

She flips it to the first page, pressing it flat on the table, and then, then--

“Oh.” The blood drains from her face, eyes glued to the headline. “Oh no.”

It’s only because the cypher gives her an address that Shirayuki has anywhere to go. Any purpose being in this city, since now, it’s clear, she has none. Not when every corner holds a flag at half mast, and over every doorway hangs a swag of black. On the street corner, the paper boys call out the only headline anyone cares to hear: Extra, extra! The First Lady of Tanbarun Has Died!

She nods when the super offers to show her around the apartment, pointing out the extra bedrooms, the extravagant square footage. It had taken months for Clarines Intelligence to hunt down a place like this, humble yet chic, not too run down for a royal physician but also not too grasping, something that wouldn’t draw too much attention with a single woman living in it. To hear Zen talk, the Director had rejected almost fifty flats out of hand before he finally-- reluctantly-- put his stamp on this one. And now the only amenity she cares to hear about is--

“A phone?” Her head whips around. “Did you say there was a phone?”

“Oh, yes.” The super grins, puffed with pride. He’s a larger man, at least in one dimension, looking positively jolly when he tells her, “A private line, too. No need to share with the neighbors! The city just came by to install it a week ago, free of charge.”

The city. She stifles a sigh. The Director’s truly brazen, sending men to impersonate the government.

Still, once she’s finally seen the super out, it’s hard to fault him. It’s never been the plan to speak over the wire, not when it was child’s play-- Kiki’s words, not hers-- to tap one. But there’s still a number scrawled in her address book, filed under “Sampson, Osamu S.” that’s for emergency use. Not something to use on the first day, but, well-- her first day is an emergency.

Making a call like this is already twisting her nerves in knots, but just the thought of making it on a party line, having to twist this situation into something so oblique the nosy ladies in the building can’t find it suspicious enough to report...

Shirayuki grimaces, anxiety building with each turn of the dial. Sometimes one has to be grateful for small miracles. Even if they’re orchestrated by a meddlesome Director.

“Shirayuki?” Her stomach twists at the familiar voice, thick with sleep. It’s only nine, and already this whole mission has fallen to pieces. “Is that you? Are you all--?”

“Darling,” she says, clipping her words to keep them from shaking. “I have bad news.”

“D-dar--?” Zen coughs, feet hitting the floor with a thump. Or at least, she’s hoping its just his feet. “W-what is--?”

“It’s the dishwasher.” Her heels clack as she paces the floor, leashed by the phone’s coiled cord. “It looks like the unit doesn’t have one, even after we paid all that money to have it installed.”

“Dishwasher?” His voice is crisper now, more awake. “What do you--? What’s going on?”

“Super says the dang thing didn’t arrive, can you believe it?” Shirayuki claps her hand over her mouth, stifling the squeak on that last word. She can’t do this; she’s a doctor, not a spy, but still, still-- 

With a shake, she continues, too bright, “I called the company though, and it’s the damnedest thing. They think it’s gone to the wrong apartment. Do you think you could check the, uh, papers?”

“The...papers?”

“For the address.” Her fingers tangle in the cord, the only thing keeping her grounded. “You know, in case I made a mistake. Silly me.”

His snap is muffled through the phone, but she can make out, “Get me the paper. Tanbarun Times, on my desk, yesterday. There we are. Now--” the line goes utterly, terribly silent, a clear sky before a storm. “Damn. Damn. The First Lady--”

“Oh, yes, it definitely looks like I’m the first lady to live here,” she giggles, tight and nervous. “And those pictures we saw of the bedrooms were certainly generous. Our mattress looks so big in there! Maybe we need to change the scale of things.”

“Right.” Zen’s breath shudders through the line, his distress enough to make even her knees wobble. “Change the scale. I-- I think we can do that. Just let me--” she can just imagine him now, eyes closed, nose pinched between his finger; how between one blink and the next he’d grow steady, a solid place to put her weight upon-- “just hang on, honey. I’ll see this gets all sorted out.”

“Thank you.” Relief radiates down her spine, her limbs trembling. “I don’t know how I would have handled this all myself.”

“Don’t worry about it.” This is where he’d lay a hand on her shoulder if she was with him, exuding the sort of easy confidence only man like him can. “It’ll be handled. Just...take care. Until I see you again.”

Her breath catches. “Right, right. Until I see you.”

The line goes dead, silence ringing in her ears. And into it, Shirayuki scowls.

“All right.” She glares down at the dial, hoping it travels through the wire as well as her voice does. “I know you’re there.”

It’s silent for a long moment, just that empty space of a line disconnected, but-- then there’s a laugh.

“Oh, what?” Izana Wisteria, Director of Clarines Intelligence hums. “No darlings for me?”

 “You must understand, Ms Lyon,” the Director begins, once she’s taken a seat. She’s found most conversations with him are improved upon by sitting down, preferably with a strong drink. Unfortunate that he didn’t see fit to send her a housewarming gift; she’s missed the wines here, and with his budget, he could afford the best. “We are in a tight spot with regards to Tanbarun.”

It’s impossible to imagine the Director ever being in a tight spot, not unless it was one of his own making. “So there won’t be any rescue.”

“I wasn’t under the impression that you were the sort of woman that needed rescuing.” If she closes her eyes, she can picture his smirk, so self-satisfied and sly where he lounges behind his desk. “This is your dream, isn’t it? A post at the much vaunted Lilias Hospital. The opportunity to work with like-minded colleagues that can keep up with you.”

Her cheeks burn against the receiver. “That was a private conversation. And I believe I said keep pace, not...that.”

“You should know by now, Ms Lyon, but privacy is merely a matter of how many ears you perceive hearing you, not how many there are.” His drawl rankles, but the Director’s not in the habit of leaving her space to reply. Oh no, instead he tells her, “You’ll stay at Lilias for the time being.”

I earned this position myself, she wants to say, I don’t need your permission to keep it.

“I thank you for the opportunity,” she manages instead, words eking through her teeth. “But really, I don’t think this arrangement--”

“I understand that your mission’s parameters have changed.” She can hear his grin as he adds, “You can hardly serve as a private physician without your patient. However, it would take us years to place someone in as trusted position as yours. Very few people can come across the border and have the potential to access to the First Family so quickly.”

“I’m a doctor, Izana.” Her fingers clench white around the cord. “Not one of your assets. I only agreed to this because it was supposed to help--”

“It still will,” he insists. “Just in a different capacity than the one we planned for you. One that won’t interfere with your duties at the hospital.”

“Why me?” It’s the same question she’s been asking since he approached her with this offer. She’s simply a doctor, not some diplomat trained in the ways to keep countries at peace. “Don’t you have anyone else who can--?”

“No.” The word freezes her to the tips of her toes. “Didn’t you read past today’s headline?”

“I...” The paper’s just on the table, within arm’s reach. It only takes two fingers to pull it toward her, a pinch to open it. Print sprays down its columns, tight and concise, and it takes a moment for her eyes to focus, for them to find-- “Oh.”

TANBARUN SECRET SERVICE BUSTS ESPIONAGE RING IN CAPITAL. Beneath it, there’s a picture of three men on the ground, the masked servicemen putting knees into their backs. Clarines corruption ranges far and wide so close to home!

“There are others,” Izana murmurs, softer now. “Positioned well for the game we thought we would be playing. But now it will take time to gain the toehold we lost. You’re our best bet at getting close enough to the Chancellor to make a difference.”

“All right,” she breathes, fingertips brushing over the woman in the corner, sobbing as a serviceman hauls her away. “What do I need to do?”

“That depends.” She can hear his smile as he says, “How do you feel about children?”

This meeting is going on forever. Ren might be getting paid by the hour, but this is ridiculous.

“You think this guy can get on with it?” he huffs, leaning against a pillar. “I know it’s the dream to blow your wad on girls and cigars, but c’mon. It’s been two hours.”

“What?” Jun huffs, his ugly mug getting uglier as he grins. “Jealous he can last that long?”

“Fuck you. They’re just eating or whatever.” He shrugs. “Seems a waste when they’re nickel n’ diming you every minute. Not like it matters to them if they get dinner first.”

Jun’s hulking shoulders lift and split like mountains. “It’s the principle of the thing. You get some girls, you show them a good time, you f--”

Ding.

They both straighten, glaring at the elevator as the arrow settles on 13. This floor. One that the boss had made sure to rent out, all private-like.

“Is there another girl?” Jun asks, getting to his feet.

Ren squints like he might be able to see through the metal if he tried hard enough. “He’s already got four. What’s he gonna do with another? Human body doesn’t even got that many holes.”

The doors slide open, slow like a striptease, and standing there--

It’s some guy. Average height, dark hair, dressed to the nines in some suit Ren knows didn’t come off the rack. Foreign, now that he’s got a good look. Not from around here.

“You think the boss sent for him?” he mutters, but Jun shakes his head. “Hey, you lost, pal?”

“Dunno.” The guy shrugs, tugging at his glove. “This where the party is?”

“Party?” Jun frowns at him. “Don’t think you’re invite--”

He never finishes his sentence. He’s too busy trying to pull the knife from his throat.

“Let’s try this again.” The guy saunters up, hard soles clacking against the marble. With one tug, blood sprays across the floor, spattering onto his cuff. Jun hits the floor. “That’s gonna be hell to get out. Anyway.” He spins toward Ren, knife pointing toward the door. “That where the party is?”

Oh hell, he’s not paid enough for this. “Y-yeah.”

The guy nods. “Brennan?”

“Uh...uh-huh.”

His mouth splits into a grin. “Good. Hate to get the wrong guy.”

The double doors on that room took both him and Jun to open, but this guy flings them wide, standing there like some maestro in front of his ensemble. Like he’s the conductor, and oh boy, is this band gonna play. “Councilman Brennan?”

“Wh-who are you?” the boss cries out, but Ren can’t bear to look. Not when he closes his eyes and all he sees is red. “Get this man out of here.”

“Terribly sorry to interrupt.” Another knife leaps to his hand, the way cards do during a trick, but oh, Ren knows this one won’t shock and amaze. “But may I have the honor of taking your life?”

[realtacuardach]

Anger and Release

Here's my entry for Match 2 of Obiyuki Madness 2021 @snowwhite-andtheknight : Roaring Rampage of Rescue. Many thanks to @jhalya for her beta reading. I hope y'all enjoy!

...

Steam curled out from Shirayuki's mouth as she peered through the frigid dimness of the morning towards the fortress. In her current frame of mind, she could almost imagine that the steam was actually smoke pouring from the maw of an enraged dragon who had had treasure stolen from her.

She didn't like being angry. Anger clouded the mind, affected the senses, and she liked to be in control and sensible at all times, especially in times where a cool head was needed.

On the other hand, though, the anger that was not at all going away was fuelling the adrenaline coursing through her blood, and she would need that adrenaline for what she was about to do. 

So, she let herself be angry.

Angry at the renegade soldiers for capturing her and Obi in the middle of the night without provocation. Angry at how they savagely beat Obi after they'd already mobbed him and restrained him when he tried to rescue her. Angry at how they had been thrown into the back of the wagon like sacks of potatoes, the pain of his fresh, brutal wounds showing through his bruised eyes and stabbing her in the heart. Angry at how he managed to undo only his hands before removing her bonds instead of untying himself totally. Angry that, instead of saving himself, he'd given her an apologetic look before pushing her out of the cart and then collapsing himself. 

The apology frustrated her almost more than anything else, because she was certain he was not apologetic for the right reasons. 

"When we get back," she muttered to herself in the lessening gloom, "we're going to have a long talk about not sacrificing yourself for me. Again."

Truthfully, she didn't have much faith that this talk would stick any better than any of their previous similar ones, but that wouldn't prevent her from trying. 

You idiot, she choked back a sob, don't you know how much it hurts when you do this?

She forced the tears away. There would be time for tears later, when he was home and safe and so bound up by her healing that he would have to stop and listen to her.

And he'll smile up at me and shrug and say he couldn't make any promises...

She shook her head. Focus.

Squinting, Shirayuki looked around the fortress and saw only one sentinel standing guard at the entrance. That seemed a little lackluster as far as security went, but she wasn't complaining. 

A murmur like Obi's echoed through her brain. Miss, you can never be too careful. The ground's not the only place the enemy can be.

As though on cue, she heard a slight crackling of tinder above her as though a squirrel was making its way through the limbs. She craned her head upwards to see a man in the tree besides the one where she was hiding, well camouflaged against the gnarled bark.

That wouldn't do.

Looking around surreptitiously, Shirayuki saw a jagged stone on the ground. She reached out and took it, its roughness grounding her and steeling her resolve. After a quick glance towards the sentinel at the door, Shirayuki crept a few trees away from her hiding place and looked up towards her target.

Practice with both Kiki and Obi had served her well; the rock slammed into the back of the tree dwelling soldier's knee as she'd planned, forcing his knee to bend and for him to lose his balance. He fell to the ground with a heavy thud amidst all the dead leaves.

Even in her haze of adrenaline, she could see his chest rise and fall, and felt a traitorous sense of relief.

The sentinel ran over to check his fallen comrade, his face showing first alarm, then irritation. He nudged the fallen man none too gently in the ribs and cursed. Shirayuki reached into her satchel, the glass jar solid in her hand.

"Fool," the guard grumbled, "falling asleep in a -"

The glass jar cracked across the back of his head, the potent herbs smearing across his skin and hair ensuring that the blow would knock him out. There were a few beads of blood where the glass scratched him, but she recognized him as one of Obi's attackers and couldn't bring herself to care much. 

She stalked across the grass quietly and quickly, her ears attuned for any small sound, but heard and saw no one as she made her way to the door. Despite herself, her hand trembled a moment as she grabbed the door handle but she swallowed it down. She couldn't hesitate.

Obi needed her.

…

Years of having to deaden old soldier's wounds and to temporarily incapacitate stubborn, hardy patients who would not listen to her and stay in bed were serving her well. It meant that she knew just the right herbs to use, even if she had to grab them on the fly from the surrounding forest and unattended cupboards. It also meant she knew just where to dig and press her fingers to weaken muscles and render others unconscious. 

She moved through the halls with almost clinical efficiency. Guard in west wing, herbs. Guard in east wing, pinch at the neck. Guard on the staircase, jar of herbs to the back of the head. 

For once, she was grateful for her small size, it allowed her to creep and duck around the shadows. Because she had to take everyone out on the way to Obi, otherwise she knew their chances of escape were slim. 

Especially with Obi as injured as he is. 

Shirayuki gritted her teeth, forcing her feelings to fuel her rage. This was not the time to falter.

It was best to be quiet, the element of surprise was key. But she noted with alarm that her attacks were getting more reckless the deeper she went into the fortress, whether that was due to her desperation and anger, she didn't know.

She didn't care.

As she crept past the guard who had been watching the dungeon door, she heard voices and scowled. 

A dull slap of something against flesh. "Where is the girl?"

A hollow chuckle. "What girl?"

Wind whistled as something was swung through the air, ending with a muffled thud and a deep groan. "You know what girl we're talking about!"

"Can't say I do," Obi groaned in response.

There was a sound that sounded sickeningly like a blade being drawn from a scabbard. "I won't ask again."

"Good, because I won't answer again." Obi clicked his tongue, the sound strangely garbled. "Not good at taking no for an answer, no wonder you can't get a girl-"

Don't provoke them, Obi!

Usually, if Obi was still being snarky and insolent, things were okay; it was only when he reverted to death glares that things were serious. However, that was when others, especially Shirayuku and Ryuu, were at stake. He was annoyingly flippant when it came to his well-being, so Shirayuki had no way of telling how bad it was without seeing him. She pushed up on her toes and stared through the bars.

Her blood ran cold, then hot, then boiling.

Her knight was shackled to the wall, looking even more bruised and battered then she had seen him before. Blood ran in a stream from the corner of his mouth, his limbs were contorted where they were shackled with blood plastering the material to his skin, and his glare was lessening to a slit of golden, blood-shot eyes as his face swelled from all the bruising. 

And there was a blade held to his neck.

Rage filled Shirayuki like a beaker overflowing with viscous, corrosive liquid and she felt herself grabbing a rusty bar that had fallen in days past from the door. There were two people with him, the element of surprise would be almost useless here.

And it was overrated anyway.

She only made one sound before she dropped her cover entirely, just enough to surprise the brute holding the blade to Obi's neck and have him facing her.

With that, she cast aside all secrecy, let out an unholy shriek that she hadn't known herself capable of, and pounced. 

…

"That," Obi huffed besides her as they struggled into the clearing, him leaning heavily on her shoulder, "was something, Miss."

Shirayuki gave something like a nod in response, but kept going. Her adrenaline was just about running out, and she could feel all the aches in her body starting to emerge. Just a little further. 

"Miss?"

Along with the aches, the reality of what she had just done was beginning to sink into her thoughts as well. All those guards slumped unconscious, their wheezing both reassuring and terrifying. The bruises and scabs forming on the backs of heads and necks. The pained groans of Obi's tormentors as they faded into delirium, clutching most likely broken legs or arms. It looked terrible and daunting in her mind. 

And she couldn't really bring herself to regret it. 

"Miss, are you okay?"

It wasn't until she felt his fingers brush the dampness of her cheek that she realized she'd been crying. "I'll be fine."

"Miss."

He had no right to sound admonishing right now. None at all.

"Miss." He sounded gentler, although the admonishing tone still lingered in the back of his voice. "You're bleeding."

"Sure it's mine and not yours?" She shot back, and immediately regretted it at his wince. 

"Miss, we're far enough. You need to rest a minute."

Acquiescing, Shirayuki maneuvered them to a small cave. She lay him down and sat beside him, hugging her knees to her chest, the fear and fatigue and anger and anxiety all curdling at once in her gut. She was doing a poor job of hiding it, given that Obi reached up to brush his fingers against her face again. "Miss, please…"

Something about the touch and tone undid her, and she began weeping. "Don't," she choked, "don't ever do that again."

Obi frowned. "You know I can't promise that."

"Why?" She demanded, "Why can't you? Don't you realize how much you matter? Don't you realize how much it would kill me if something happened to you?"

He swallowed hard. "Not as much as you-"

Shirayuki glared down at him. "Don't. Just, don't."

Obi sighed and forced himself into a seated position. With a slight noise of distaste at his bloodied clothes, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. She hugged him back fiercely and cried into his shoulder. He rubbed her back soothingly. "Thank you, Miss. I'm so sorry."

"Not as half as you'll be if you scare me like that again," she sniffled.

"Yes, Miss," she could feel his smile in the breath against her neck, warm and close and reassuringly alive. 

She would need to talk with him more about this later, they were both well aware. But for now, they were both alive and safe.

And for now, that would have to be enough.

[traditional-with-a-twist]

xxxii. Beauty and Her Beast - REWRITE

@the-pompous-potato  wow, you captured so perfectly what I was going for!! Ryuu likes slow change - yes, yes, that’s it exactly! Makes me so happy that you enjoyed the parallels to their 1st meetings  ^_^

@bubblesthemonsterartist​ hahaha XD Obi, they have such good advice for you! Listen and learn, buddy!

@claudeng80 awwww, yes, that’s exactly what has been challenging about this story - taking a step back from the obiyuki drama to think about how all these shocks would impact the characters less intimately involved!

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

A/N: This is the last re-write chapter - new content upcoming!

Obi had one thing to thank the unwritten rules of marriage customs for: It fell to the bride to find a lady witness.

Of course, the typical family would have produced a sister to accompany the bride, but Shirayuki was as much alone in that respect as he was. They both thought of Kiki, but Shirayuki was nervous to ask, worried that it might be an imposition, teetered on the verge of trying to find someone else, but in the end she went.

Perhaps what decided her was not unlike what had prompted Obi: the appeal of the small gesture, its significance cloaked in formality. It was a token of trust and a symbol of affection that sprang from gratitude - the half-whispered compliment, would you stand by me?

...

Obi was for once glad that Shirayuki had gone somewhere without him.

Without admitting it even to himself, he had been avoiding Kiki ever since their standoff over the tea cups. He didn't quite know what she would think of his disregarding her advice - even now that fate had intervened to rescue them from his folly.

The slim possibility of congratulations wasn't enough to outweigh the risks of enduring more dire predictions, stern injunctions, or even another glare. Much better that the miss go and soften her up before the ceremony, where he could face her in company (or duck behind Little Ryuu if necessary).

...

Shirayuki returned from their interview all smiles, hugging a dress that Kiki had lent her for the occasion, and Obi breathed a sigh of relief. He was borrowing a suit of clothes from Yatsufusa since the groom's witness could not, in this matter, be so obliging. 

Perhaps if they had not minded to wait, a tailor might be found, inside the castle or out, to outfit them both with something new for the occasion, but Obi did mind. 

Why would a man wait for the rosy light of the rising dawn to fade; why wait to find what the day would bring when the moment was now, here, within their grasp? Shirayuki was happy so long as she could tick the mysterious list she kept in her head off on her fingers (they had spent an afternoon sampling buns at the market until she found what she was looking for - some precise combination of spices and seeds in the filling - and ordered several dozen for the festivities planned to refresh their guests, at the requisite after-wedding feast).

Obi couldn't quite guess whether this list originated in the traditions of Tanbarun, the regulatory state of Clarines, Shirayuki's girlhood imaginings, or some splendid combination of all three, but he didn't care so long as it made her happy.

...

Curiously enough, none of the castle's denizens seemed to care either. From overshadowing their every step and baiting them like birds with fowler's nests, the ruling party had subsided as suddenly and mysteriously as the old man had spoken.

Shirayuki and Obi were left to their own devices now: no state ceremonies, no draining rehearsals, no ominous interviews. They roamed the town in pursuit of trinkets and delicacies; they crossed the grounds arm in arm, and no one challenged them.

Still Obi was not so sanguine about their victory that he was willing to dawdle. If it had been up to him, he would have collared the first magistrate passing through town and joined his name to Shirayuki's as fast as the man could write.

...

It was perhaps for the best that his bride had a mind for detail, because the legality of their union, as it turned out, required more careful arranging than that.

It seemed that the state took an interest in the affairs of an intended princess, even if her intention was now to marry herself out of the royal family: Her marriage required the signature of not just any traveling law-man but a magisterial signature with royal authority,

Obi found this needlessly particular but could not see why it gave cause for concern, until Shirayuki (after biting her lips so much that it made him jealous) brought herself to name the man possessed of such authority in the city of Wistal: none other than Lord Haruka.

...

This was, as far as Obi was concerned, all the more reason for haste. 

He knew the old man loved nothing so much as duty, but he was still made of flesh and blood, and Obi had no illusions that the prospects of the match delighted him. He would have confronted Lord Haruka himself rather than risk the bureaucratic resistance against which they had few defenses, but Shirayuki was happy sending a letter, or filling out a form, or whatever it was that satisfied the Clarines machine.

Despite Obi’s misgivings, this method produced a polite reply, penned in the neat hand of an unknown secretary, which assigned them a date and a room in a small audience chamber designated for such purposes.

...

The morning of the blessed day, Obi stood at the mirror set over Yatsufusa's wash basin, regarding the reflection of his features with the combination of wry amusement that he always reserved for it.

Cat-face, that monkey had called him. True, there was nothing of nobility in his looks - all dark and wild like his mother's people, except perhaps for the curiously light eyes.

These approached the hazel found more commonly in the northern aristocratic families, in Lord Haruka himself, in fact, except that their color shockingly intensified against Obi's gypsy skin.

He was wondering how he might have looked as a blonde, scrunching his eyes as he tried to imagine alabaster skin and aristocratic angles, when a face of exactly that description appeared in the mirror beside his.

...

If Kiki Seiran were not an exceptionally gifted warrior, she might have died that day. She had turned aside the jab of his elbow and ducked the sweep of his knife hand, when the realization that his hand was empty brought Obi up short.

Where were his knives? On the bed, atop a pile of his old greens. Why? He was dressing for his wedding.

Today was his wedding.

...

He stared down at Kiki, pupils dilated. It wasn't often that someone could genuinely surprise him.

She returned his gaze, not a hair out of place. Her dress was not the elegant affair from her charade with Zen, but something simple with clean lines that favored the symmetry of her perfectly proportioned face.

'Miss Kiki,' he blurted. 'You look like a girl in that dress!'

She did not dignify this remark with a reply.

...

If the world was an open book for Obi, then Kiki was the flyleaf. He hadn't a clue what she wanted, or even how she had managed to find him.

'I'm very flattered,' he assured her, careful to keep his voice smooth despite the adrenaline still spiking his blood, 'but it's too late to have me now, Miss Kiki - I'm ten steps away from being a married man!'

As if this were the cue she had been waiting for, Kiki spoke: 'Obi.’

Her eyes held him with all the stern gravity of statue guarding a temple. She spoke with flat conviction: ‘Shirayuki is precious. Will you swear to stay by her side no matter the cost?'

...

He blinked. 

A chuckle rises unbidden. 'Is that all, Miss Kiki? I thought you were here to have hard words with me!'

Her gaze never wavered. 'You will not wander,' Kiki pressed him, 'or run?'

...

Obi drags his fingers through his hair, addressing a mutter to the ceiling: 'Master, did you send your spirit here to ask me this?'

He sneaks a peek at Kiki, but she is still watching him.

Obi swallows.

...

'I swear it.' His voice is small. He raises it:

'I swear to stand by her and never stray, for as long as she'll have me.'

Something in Kiki’s face relaxes.

She nods once, and a burden lifts from Obi's shoulders: Kiki is satisfied.

[squidpro-quo]

Sunshine

AN: I went with the ‘beloved, sought after’ aspect of the prompt, and finally wrote that one engagement dagger vignette that I’ve been meaning to for about a year! Coming up with six different knives was tough, but the ot3 demands it :P

Shirayuki stared at the blade in her hand, fingers tracing the filigree across the hilt and imagined using it to clean stalks and extract seeds while she smears dirt across its fine etchings. The grip was carved in the shape of a tulip, the flute of it spreading at just where her palm ended, as if it were made to fit in her hand alone. Which, knowing Zen, was within the lengths he’d have gone to have it made for her. It’s as beautiful an engagement dagger as any of the ladies in court could have boasted of. 

When Zen had given it to her, she’d been almost speechless with shock, not to even mention how overcome she was when Obi handed his over with a wink and a kiss. From there, she’d staggered back to the herbalist rooms and stared at them until now, quiet awe filling her as she realized what it all meant. 

Obi’s was smaller than Zen’s, but perfectly sized for cutting through even the most stubborn of roots and dragging them into the light of day. Remembering the days she’d spent sweating over the mistwort cores a few months ago, she shook her head slightly as a smile came over her in realization. Obi had come by then, during his breaks, and helped wrestle the worst of them out of the soil until there was enough for the winter’s supply. To think he’d remember that so much later, but the hooked, sharp edge was testament to just what he thought she’d be doing with it. 

“Is this a congratulations occasion? Because if those aren’t what I think they are, then I dug these fire whiskey bottles out of the back closet for nothing.” Garack’s voice interrupted her thoughts as she plonked the spirits in question onto the table and pulled her into a hug. 

“She ran by to yell it over to me,” Ryuu said from his spot behind Garack, the only part of him visible being the small bouquet of flowers clutched in his hand. Shirayuki could barely breathe from the force of Garack’s hug, but she freed one arm to touch the petals of the nearest bloom and realize just how much happiness there was inside her bursting in bubbles against her chest and making her feel lighter than air. 

“Let me see them, oh Ryuu, have you ever seen this kind of craftmanship?” Garack finally released her and stepped back to oggle the daggers in their sheaths on the table. 

“Can I borrow Obi’s sometime?” Ryuu asked, handing her the flowers and leaning over the table to eye the knives from up close. 

“Of course, I’m certain he’d be delighted it gets more use,” Shirayuki looked from the knives to Ryuu, “How did you know that one was his?”

“You can’t miss it. You’re not the only who knows Obi.” Ryuu glanced at her before looking back at the one in question. “And he asked me about the right shape for it a few weeks ago.” 

“Ryuu!” She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her, she’d been so intent on her own efforts that she’d never thought to question what she would receive, and how much everyone else knew of their plans. 

“Where are you going to wear them?” Garack asked, pulling Zen’s from its sheath and admiring the scrollwork along its edge. “That’s an important aspect too.”

“Wear them?” Shirayuki had thought she’d researched enough about this tradition that nothing would surprise her, but there was always something else that went unspoken because of how ubiquitous the knowledge seemed. The first time she’d heard of the engagement daggers, she’d assumed it a joke until she’d seen a lady’s-maid fawning over hers with her circle of friends. 

“It’s customary to wear them, at least until the ceremony. It doesn’t have to be anywhere obvious, just so that they’re with you.” Garack grinned. “So your friends can ask to see them wherever you are.” 

Glancing down at her herbalist’s coat, she tried to think of somewhere that wasn’t her too-small pockets and her nonexistent belt. If she’d still have her hair long, she might have been able to pin it up with both of them unsheathed, but with it this short that wouldn’t do either. Gazing at the two daggers in thought, she finally alighted on the perfect idea. 

“If they made to be used, then used they will be. Who spends more time crouched near the earth than an herbalist?” She decided, sliding them into her boots, one in each. “Always within reach.”

——|-

Zen whooped as soon as he made it to the safety of his chambers. Keeping a straight face the whole way back had been about the hardest thing he’d had to do that day, his mind whirling in circles as the weight of the daggers at his waist kept him grounded. They’d barely parted ways, work pulling them apart, when he’d already paused in the corridor to fasten them to his hip and stride down the hall with more spring in his step than he could control. If he had to maintain that courtly manner the entire time, then he’d sure as hell put them somewhere they couldn’t be ignored, carrying them both with him as he did in his heart. 

He’d been turning to close the doors when they snapped closed of their own accord, pushed by Kiki and Mitsuhide from their post behind each. Their twin stares let him know in an instant that they already knew, especially as Mitsuhide’s facade was breaking at the edges as a smile poked through. 

“We’ve cleared the next half-hour,” Kiki announced, her own excitement better masked even as her eyes immediately found the two new additions to his belt. 

“What do they look like? What happened?” Mitsuhide asked, giving up on trying to hide his curiosity. 

“Have a look for yourself.” Zen carefully unhooked them, laying Shirayuki’s in Mitsuhide’s palm and offering Obi’s to Kiki, knowing she’d want to see just as much but wouldn’t reach for it out of principle. Some old fashioned customs over engagement daggers still remained, but he gladly handed it over. 

She turned it over in her hands, expertly testing the weight and finding it impeccable, nothing less than what could be expected of Obi. At first glance, it looked to be in a letter opener’s style, slim and long, with a groove that ran down the length of the blade. But the longer she held it, the more obvious it became that it was as deceptive as Obi himself was. The blade’s hilt was secured so well it could cut more than simple paper open with a single slice, it could sever an artery just as easily, or sink as deep into flesh with the same amount of force. 

Kiki hummed her approval, a smile hiding in her eyes as she handed it back with an appreciative nod. Mitsuhide took longer, marveling over the engraved handle and the slight facet to the blade, before finally understanding what it was for. It fit into the curve of the palm, aimed to pare the skin from a fruit with so fine a motion that it would remain one long, spiraling piece. Shirayuki, familiar as she was with all manner of a garden’s yields, had found a way to combine what would be needed for peeling and cutting into one knife. 

“So you’ll be taking these along next time you escape, right? They’ve thought of everything for the adventure, something to help you eat…”

“And something to help you survive,” Kiki finished Mitsuhide’s thought, both of them watching as Zen reattached the two to his belt. 

“You think I’d leave the two of them behind if I happened to go?” Zen asked, grinning from the flush of handling the daggers. He’d sometimes imagined what one would look like when he was young, more for the thrill of wielding a knife than any significance that came with it, but these held more precious heaviness to them than his sword did. 

——-|-

Obi looked down at the harbor from his perch on the roof of the tower, tossing the dagger into the air and watching it flash with the light of the sun. The crystal center of it shone like a gem, more ostentatious than anything he’d have thought to carry, but its delicate appearance belied a deadliness he’d been surprised by when Zen presented it to him with a hopeful gaze. 

He’d always ridiculed the traditions, presenting a knife to someone as a token of affection seemed laughable when he’d grown up surrounded by them and knew the blood and suffering they drew. It was twice as absurd when he’d overheard one man’s reasoning for it in a bar years ago, the idea that while giving a beautiful dagger was an obvious choice, ensuring that it remained deadly was another aspect to respect. Not only a means of protection against others, but a trust in them for protecting against yourself as well. Baring your heart to your love emotionally was not enough, but to bare it to them in the flesh was what it meant to truly give over everything. 

That trust was not something he’d ever expected, or truly wanted, for the longest time, not sure he could be either the receiver or the giver in equal parts. But now, he tipped the blade on its side, watching the liquid inside move in a viscous slide down the crystal capsule embedded in the hilt, and wondered whether Zen knew how deep it had hit him to realize the prince had offered him not one means to kill him, but two. Oh, he knew it fit him to have a poison dagger but the underlying message was one that made him feel stripped bare, raw to the soul at how it touched him. 

He lay back against the line of the roof and slid the blade back into its sheath along his right arm, under his sleeve. It would be out of sight but never out of mind, something to hold close to his skin and where he couldn’t always wear his heart on his sleeve, he would have this instead. 

Pulling Shirayuki’s out of his left, he flipped it over and over in his fingers, the edge brushing his knuckles like a caress. If he didn’t know better, the shape would remind him of an arrowhead; it was among his shortest daggers, more akin to a throwing knife with its heft and easy weight. The ribbon wrapped around the hilt was a spring green, a pattern of vines running over and under each other in a never-ending pattern that he could trace for hours and never tire of. 

The two of them, a tether tying him to both that he would never choose to cut, not with the sharpest knife, and yet they’d given him precisely that to do with as he chose. He could understand the solemn awe people would handle their engagement daggers with now, a tangible reminder that the one who gave it to him bared their soul right back. He doubted he could ever get used to that, the wild feeling of being accepted in whole and still being treasured, but he’d have a reminder of it with on the empty nights, everywhere under the moon.

[k-itsmaywriting]

Any chapter from Vessels?

(oh god this got so long and it took me so long but I WANTED TO INCLUDE EVERYTHING)

VESSELS

So I’ve chosen chapter 4 for this because it comes straight after Shirayuki’s big shock, contains Obi’s turning point, and it ends with a Big Idea that sets the trajectory for the rest of the story.

Overall, this story happened because I got the Android slot on Bingo 2018! :D The first thing that I thought up of was “what if Shirayuki is an android and Obi is her creator” and then I also thought “BUT WHAT IF OBI IS ALSO ANDROID BUT HE DOESN’T /KNOW/”. And the rest kind of snowballed to include post-apocalyptic Wistal and the Outside to explain how that might happen in the first place. But because of the nature of that setting, the story overall became A LOT more political and philosophical than I originally planned on but uh HERE WE ARE. Since Wistal’s government is fictional, I guess I had the freedom to draw inspiration from the actions of multiple governments as well as anxieties about what how they might respond to disaster (or at least an extreme example) and what that might mean for society in the future.

Also the title is like…android bodies are vessels for their brains and designed purposes. Bodies in general are vessels. There are also blood vessels, which I contrast with injuries that show wiring instead of them. Vessels, man.

The chapter circles back to Obi’s POV for the first time since chapter 1 and in pretty much two minutes he, with very little context, has to decide whether to give up himself and Shirayuki and continue life as they did before, or live with the truth and run. He runs because he’s realised that Garrack, someone he knows hates this whole gig, was involved in turning him into an android too. He doesn’t want to give himself or Shirayuki up partly because she’s betrayed him (will get to the other parts of it soon), and he doesn’t trust her anymore.

Then it’s the flashback when Obi and Garrack met for the first time, and is where he learns that Garrack was definitely not as in this for the money as he was. At that point, he was curious at best, but he also knew there was /someone/ who knew the Wisterias aren’t up to much good like everyone else thought they were. He shared that sentiment, so there was just a tinge of camaraderie there. Which hits another nail into the betrayal. The flashback also sort of hints that Garrack had changed since then to become someone who was willing to sacrifice Shirayuki and Obi so she could keep being with Ryuu, still knowing how it’s impacting everyone else. And I wanted that to reflect the whole “save yourself and those close to you, don’t care about anyone else” thing that happens sometimes in very stressful circumstances.

As for the Wisterias, it’s kind of an explanation to what they actually do. So, basically Zen and Izana are co-directors of Starlight, an AI development company, and Izana also joined Kain’s political party around when Zen turned 20 (which was like…a year before he hired Obi and so between 5-6 years before the present). I also wanted to hint that like, ISN’T IT IFFY THAT THE PM HAS FAMILIAL CONNECTIONS TO THE PPL IN CHARGE OF MAKING ALL THE TECHNOLOGY THAT HAS THE POTENTIAL TO REALLY UP THE SURVEILLANCE EVERYWHERE AND STORE CRAZY AMOUNTS OF DATA WHILE ALSO LITERALLY TURNING PEOPLE INTO ROBOTS. TO CONTROL THEM. ESPECIALLY WHEN SAID PM IS A DICK WHO USES PPL’S LIVES AS LEVERAGE SO HE CAN HAVE CONTROL OVER RESEARCH IN OTHER AREAS OF SCIENCE IE CONSERVATION AND AGRICULTURAL SCIENCE IE THE THING THAT’S GONNA BASICALLY SAVE EVERYONE GIVEN FOOD SCARCITY IS A MENTIONED ISSUE IN CH2 :)))

The next scene is when Obi wakes up Shirayuki and she’s grappling with the fact her entire life has been fabricated. Obi is able to quickly say that she’s a person with thoughts, feelings and actions like everyone else because this is what he already thought of her in chapter 1. He cares about her and loves her dearly as a best friend, and as an honest person who’s trying to do good in the world. He believes she’s good in every way that he is bad. And he’s gutted that he’s been lying to her while she was risking everything to save him. And that’s also why he ran away with her, even though it meant she would know the truth and possibly hate him for it. But he knows she’s the kind of person who would rather the hard reality than the comfortable lie.

WHICH BRINGS ME TO THIS PARTICULAR PART:

“I was in love with you and this entire time you’ve been lying to me?!” Shirayuki screams.Obi freezes, eyes wide as he stares at her. She…she what?

“That’s why Zen and Dr Gazelt looked at me like…like I was just pitiful.” She grits her teeth as tears begin to fall. “Don’t pretend you don’t know!”

“You weren’t supposed to love me,”

Shirayuki at this point believes everything is fabricated, right down to her feelings for Obi. But Obi saying she wasn’t supposed to love him means that those feelings developed while they were living together. I was actually super cautious about this because I was kind of afraid it’d be like, SHE’S TRANSCENDED TO HUMANITY BECAUSE SHE CAN FALL IN LOVE, but it’s more about her being a person because she can change and develop feelings without an instruction to. Which also applies to her running from Zen, saving Obi, and later deciding to escape Wistal. None of those things are good for the Wisterias, but because she’s designed to be able to think for herself and to value justice and Doing Good, she’s able to act in ways that they do not expect. In doing so, she’s able to reclaim her autonomy, so to speak.

But the same goes for Obi as well. The reason why Zen and Garrack look at Shirayuki Like That every time she talks about Obi being her best friend is because the Obi that is only in it for the money and doesn’t care about anything else is a lot more known to them than the best friend Obi. They don’t have much reason to believe Obi would risk it all for Shirayuki considering he’s the one who made her in the first place and has been lying to her the whole time (not to mention that Garrack also just feels sorry for her because of that). Yet he too runs away and saves her, just like she did for him. And tells her that who he is - what made him smile and laugh, his happiness when they were together - was not a lie even though his past was. To her, that’s what tells her that he really does care about her and that he’s changed since he first came to Wistal. And again, that is without instruction. Those feelings and the decisions that came out of them are also therefore his own.

He tells her his actual past too, so FINALLY, ANOTHER GLIMPSE OF THE OUTSIDE AND THIS TIME I WROTE ABOUT MORE PEOPLE. The idea that people left the wastelands for the mountains just to live a peaceful life was very much inspired by how so many young people’s dreams these days is like…to live in a cottage among nature and bake pies, or another form of very peaceful mundanity. I felt it would be the same in a world that feels so hopeless like in Vessels, where people had to sort of choose to either follow Kain’s father and his crew to live in the same society that failed them before the apocalypse, or stay in the wasteland and try to survive there. The rumours of regrowth were HUGE symbols of hope, including for Obi’s family, for those who just wanted that peaceful life.

Obi, unfortunately, is the only one who makes it. And he’s so heartbroken even when he’s cared for by Mukaze and his parents that he runs away back to the wasteland to become a scavenger. I didn’t really get to go very deep into it, but the wasteland is pretty much Trade Central. There’s no clear power structure, but everyone’s still trying to get ahead somehow. So it’s not Wistal, but it’s also not the total opposite of it either.And Obi spends his teen years/early adulthood in that environment, so it’s very much involved in the kind of person he became by the time he met Zen.

Mukaze and his family taking care of this child Obi who literally fell into their garden out of nowhere is kind of like…a communal care humans give each other that is not widely seen in other settings of this story but one that is really important? Like, humans working together and building each other up to survive after the apocalypse. So when Shirayuki shows that kind of care by saving him and Obi decides he wants to return it, Mukaze’s place is an image of something that’s within their reach when Shirayuki voices her idea to escape Wistal and All This Shit.

[obsidiancorner]

The Littlest Lion- Chapter 1

ObiYuki Bingo ‘19

The Lions of The Mountain

Pairing: Obi x Shirayuki

Word Count: ~3000

“It is what is best for everyone,” King Izana said as he stood looking out the window of his office, observing the bustle of the castle grounds and the countryside beyond. He turned to face them and, though his words were void of emotion, matter-of-fact but not harsh, there was a hint of sympathy thawing his icy blue eyes. 

Shirayuki had been expecting this for, well, years, when she really thought about it. She had expected it after her trip to her Tanbarun homeland at the beckoning of Prince Raj. She had accepted the possibility of it happening after she, Ryuu, and Obi had created a cure for the mysterious ailment of Lyrias that had been brought on by exposure to the Olin Maris plant. She was downright stunned that two years studying in Lyrias and another two years convincing the nobility of the north that Phostyrias, the Olin Maris plant they had modified to only produce light instead of both light and toxin, was safe and needed to be planted as a natural light source along the roads. 

The fact that it was happening now, a year after her transfer to Wilant Castle to continue working under Ryuu, was akin to a rug being pulled out from under her while she was at the top of one of the castle’s opulent staircases. Every memory passing by in her mind hit her with the force of a marble step as she tumbled down an escalated path years in the making, bruising her at every hit and turn of the road that led them to this moment. 

Why now, the night after Zen’s proposal and the first -now only- time they had slept together, had Izana shown up in Wilant to pry them apart for good?

Shirayuki knew better than to show any hurt to Izana. Her hands fisted in the long fabric of her work coat, obscured from his view, but she kept her face carefully neutral.

Zen huffed angrily beside her crossing his arms across his chest and one ankle over the other knee. He always had behaved like a petulant child when Izana made a decision he didn’t like, but the display was in vain. Izana was a man of calculated consistency. When he had decided something, it was done. 

“Your bride will be arriving tomorrow and you will welcome her with every ounce of chivalry you were raised to show a woman,” Izana continued firmly, looking at Zen with a level of harshness that hadn’t been present before Zen’s display of disgust.

“Shirayuki,” Izana said as he turned his gaze on her. To her surprise, the look was much softer. So soft, it bordered on actual sadness. “To prevent any accidental temptation of Zen, I am mournfully terminating your employment as a royal pharmacist.”

Even though her eyes were wide with shock, her vision went black. “Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you.” She heard herself say, distant like an echo that had trickled down to a valley from a mountain top. Beside her, Zen was silent but the rage he felt rolled off him in heated, undulating waves. 

“Very well. You are both dismissed. I am expected at a lunch meeting in fifteen minutes,” Izana stated, his voice flat. Bored. 

She and Zen both stood to take their leave. Zen, not wanting to spend anymore time on a conversation he found distasteful, stormed out of the room, his white cape fluttering wildly and the door slamming behind him. Shirayuki found herself unable to move, rooted to the spot like the plants in the herb gardens she loved tending to.

As her vision returned from the temporary blackout, the gears of her mind slowly began turning again and questions began to form. Where would she go? How long did she have to gather her personal belongings? What of Obi? 

Obi.

“Your Majesty,” Shirayuki questioned. Her voice was louder and more panicked than she wanted, so she cleared her throat as delicately as a lady of the court would have been expected. She wasn’t going to be losing face now. “One moment, if it pleases you.”

His eyebrow quirked and he opened his hand in front of him. A gesture to sit she gladly accepted. “You’d been silent thus far. I had begun to believe you had lost your spirited, if mildly disrespectful, dismissal of difference in station.”

Shirayuki opened her mouth to answer but the words wouldn’t come. They were piling up at the tip of her tongue. She could feel them. Right there, dancing on the edge but they refused to fall off the precipice. 

“If you are concerned over where you can go, I can gather a list of cities, towns, and provinces in Clarines that would benefit from a talented pharma-”

“No, thank you.” Shirayuki cut him off. If Izana wanted her normal self, his superiority was going to be disregarded in full. “I know exactly where I can go.”

The smirk he gave her was unnerving. He was amused by her interruption, so at least she had successfully managed to get back to her more willful nature. He remained silent but interested and listening so she pushed on. “What of Obi?”

Something mischievous or perhaps just his own brand of twisted amusement passed over his eyes, almost too quick to catch. Shirayuki squinted her eyes, as if that would somehow produce what was happening in his tactical mind.

“What of Obi, Shirayuki?”

“By Zen’s order, he was my bodyguard. Will he be staying on as an employee of the castle?”

“Obi’s employment, Shirayuki, is between he and my brother,” he replied, dismissive but amused. 

Her eyes drifted down to the pearl surrounded by ruby flowers and emerald leaves on her left hand. Silently, she removed the ring and sat it down on the King’s desk before turning her back on him and walking out the door. 

The brilliant orange of the setting sun cast her chambers in a fiery glow, illuminating every garment, valuable, and memory as she stowed each one away in packs and trunks with the same tender care she showed her patients and plants. 

Several days had passed since the meeting with Izana and the news of her impending departure from the castle had spread through the castle at breakneck speed. Everywhere she turned, there were whispers and sad looks cast her way. It made her itch, ready for the freedom of life outside the shame of the palace walls.

Zen’s new fiancee had arrived the day after the meeting, as Izana had promised. Beautiful, blonde, tall. A picture of grace and sophistication… and a Shenazard, of all families. Prince Raji’s first cousin, oldest daughter of the King of Tanbarun’s youngest brother. 

She hadn’t seen Prince Zen outside his new bride’s company since her arrival and even then it was only at a distance. She hadn’t spoken to him since before they had been summoned to Izana’s office, so asking about Obi’s fate had just been an unvoiced concern nagging at the back of her mind and a heavy stone weighing down her stomach. 

Shirayuki flopped down on top of the trunk. She wasn’t getting it closed any other way on her own. She had stuffed it too full of paper-wrapped jars of dried herbs, seeds, and a mountain of her most prized books. All the knowledge she had accumulated over the years on herbs and flowers, gardening practices, medicines, and anatomy and physiology- all stuffed carefully and ceremoniously into a trunk that now probably weighed more than herself. 

She hadn’t found the courage to even broach the topic to Obi, not that she’d seen him recently either. Suspicion in her bruised heart told her their separation was likely intentional but probably not by his own choice. He’d undoubtedly heard the whisperings that roared through the halls, occupying the minds and tongues of every maid, footman, soldier, and noble occupying Wilant Castle. Spies and assassins had there methods of intel gathering. He had probably heard the knees before she and Zen had.

When had she last spoken to Obi? When had she even last seen the man who served as her personal shadow wherever she had called home in the last five years or more? Two days before Izana had appeared at Wilant? 

It left her feeling hollow, like a piece of her had gone missing in all the hullabaloo, but it was ultimately irrelevant now. Her coach was scheduled to leave within the hour. If he had been planning on saying any lengthy goodbyes, he had missed his chance.

A gust of wind pushed through the balcony's double doors. She sighed, realizing she had apparently forgotten to latch it, as another burst of warm summer air sent letters of goodbyes and travel plans as well as to-do lists and notes on the quirks of her more particular patients off her desk and skittering through the air. 

Obi would have chastised her for her recklessness had he been there. He'd tried so hard to instill a greater awareness of her own security in his time with her. Usually, she was much better about it, knowing all too well her hair made her an attractive and valuable target.

She'd just been so busy lately. Her focus had turned away from the mundane day-to-day activities of her life. There were more important things to focus on now, like setting her patients up with new caregivers, sorting through what she could take versus what belonged to the royal family. 

Still, his voice rang out in her mind, clear as the cloudless evening sky outside. 

Miss, you have to take precautions. What would happen if I weren't around?

The thought squeezed painfully at her heart and the warm wet path of a tear tracked down her cheek. That was just it, she thought bitterly. He wasn't here. He wasn't around now. Losing Obi was the worst part of being cast out of the castle and he wasn't even here to say goodbye. 

She rushed to the open door, scrubbing the evidence of her heartache off her face with the back of her sleeve as she went. She swung the double doors closed with more force than was necessary. It was a momentary indulgence in her sadness and anger, providing a moment of fleeting comfort, as though shutting the doors with enough force to rattle the panes of glass would seal the lid back on the reaction to the loss of the only person she had ever truly called her best friend. 

She hadn't felt this way when she had fled Tanbarun after Raj had attempted to take her as a concubine. Why was this different? Sure she'd made a life here, but she had lived a fulfilling life in Tanbarun prior to leaving as well. She'd had friends there. She'd left them without a real goodbye. So what made leaving Obi behind without an actual goodbye this much harder?

Shirayuki choked back a sob as she bent to pick up the scattered sheafs of paper and organized them back into their previous stacks. She picked up the to-do list and thought back to her last few hours. 

With the closing of the latches on the final trunk filled with her books and herbs, she had done everything on the list. She had no intention of saying goodbye to Zen - heaven knew she'd not even be allowed the opportunity - and she knew Mitsuhide would be the one to send her off. She’d written farewell letters to Ryuu, Yuzuri, Suzu, and Kiki. Now, she just had to sit down and write the hardest letter of them all. 

Dear Obi, my best friend,

I’m sure you’ve heard the news by now but, in case you haven't, I want you to know: Zen was promised to Lily Shenazard, a cousin of Prince Raj and my employment as a royal pharmacist has been terminated. 

I just finished packing and running through my checklist. I'd hoped to see you before I left but it seems as though that isn't going to happen, despite how much I wanted it. 

Leaving you behind is the last thing I wanted to do. I had hoped to speak with Zen but was never presented with the opportunity to do so. I would have preferred you getting the chance to decide if you wanted to come with me.

I'm going to miss you more than I can put into words and I hope you can find it in your heart to see my speedy departure and inability to say a true goodbye to you as forgivable. Who would have guessed that the last conversation I'd have with you was over lunch almost a week ago. Would you believe I had to actually sit and think long and hard about the last time I saw you? Had I known…. 

Honestly, had I known this would happen, I would have asked Zen if you could come with me and simply left the castle before the meeting with Izana. 

I'd always expected Izana would make plans for Zen that didn't include me. The odds were always stacked that way but I never thought that I'd lose you, too, let alone at the same time I had to walk away from Zen. The concept of going on without you, my best friend, is unfathomable. Yet, it's what I have to do.  

Should this be the last time I am able to have any form of words potentially reach you, know this: I'll miss you always. I have never and will never again have a source of strength and support as steadfast and constant as you. 

Thank you for all the time you spent beside me as both a friend and bodyguard on all of our crazy adventures. I couldn't have asked for a better person to have had with me. 

You are a unique and unquestionably special man. It was a privilege to have had as much time at your side as I was lucky enough to have. I will always look back fondly at all the time we spent together, from huddling with Ryuu for warmth on the coldest nights Lyrias offered, to every task and challenge we were forced to undertake. Yes, that even includes meeting you after you shot an arrow at me because that was what started it all.  

You will always hold a part of my heart. If you ever leave Zen's employ, know that I went home and you'll always have a home with me. 

Love, Shirayuki

The first stars were beginning to peak into wakefulness through the deep purple of the twilight sky as she made her way down to the side gate of Wilant Castle. Mitsuhide, stoic as ever in his formal dress uniform, stood between her and the carriage hired to take her to the mountains.

"Mitsuhide, what's the special occasion?" Shirayuki teased, trying to lighten the mood. 

"Not a happy one," he admitted with little more than a whisper as she finally reached him. Around them, various footmen began loading what little cargo she had claimed as her own into the small storage space above the coach.

"It's alright, Mitsuhide. I'm going home. I'll be back with my father and the Lions in a few days." She tried to keep her voice strong but seeing the gentle giant so deeply saddened by her departure clawed at her already aching heart. 

"You will be missed in the years to come. I hope you know that."

Her eyes grew heavy with unshed tears and she blinked rapidly to try to dispel the evidence. "By some more than others, I'd reckon." She would continue laughing it off until she was away from the prying eyes of the castle if it killed her. Weakness now wasn't an option. 

"Tanbarun will be lucky to have one of their best daughters back," he added, voice cracking ever so slightly at the end. 

She couldn't help the sad laugh that bubbled out of her as three men struggled with the trunk of books, barely managing to slide it into a more manageable place inside the expansive seating area. Izana had certainly spared no expense in sending her away in comfort. 

"I wouldn't necessarily call it Tanbarun, but I suppose I'll be within Tanbarun borders."

"Don't forget to write occasionally," he advised as he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing a little too tightly. 

She squeezed him back. The finality of the moment weighing heavily over both of them. 

"You too," Shirayuki replied, patting his back before they pulled apart and began walking the remaining few feet to the carriage. "Speaking of writing… remind me to send a thank you note to Izana for the spacious traveling accommodations." 

The true laughter that peeled out of him caught them both off guard and they took a moment to simply enjoy their final moments being a time to laugh. 

"If you ever find yourself in the mountains between Clarines and Tanbarun, stop by and say hi, okay?"

"You know I will," he said with conviction as he stretched out his hand to help her up the tiny steps and into the compartment.  

She gave his hand a squeeze before letting go and stepped further in. The door closed behind her with a soft click and she waved goodbye with a graceful smile as the slap of driving reins smacking horse flanks jarred them into motion. 

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

Scene 1: mitsuhide: Obi, do you know if kiki has a lover? Obi: It's me. Scene 2: shirayuki: obi jokes around but he doesn't lie. The rest is left to you 👍

Prompts are currently closed while I catch up. I will announce when I am open! :)

A/N: Another, and hopefully last, sneak peak of Best Laid Plans out of the prompt pile before I get a chance to work on the actual story. This may or may not make it into the final draft.

Sorry, no Mitsuhide here. Just Suzu, Shirayuki, Obi, and a MYSTERY :3

It’s been less than a month since Ryuu left for Wistal.

As much as she was happy for him, as much as her chest swells with pride whenever he sends missives back detailing his new role, she misses him. No longer was he there to tuck himself into the library with her late at night, half buried by his own pile of books. No longer did she have company for breakfast if Obi took to the wall overnight. No longer did his steady presence fill up his corner of the pharmacy with quiet mumbling and quick scratches of the pen. Instead, his space was neat, clean, and… entirely void.

Obi tells her that it will get easier with time. That he’ll come to visit before she knows it. But right here, right now, standing before the prescription cabinet, she has never has she felt his absence more keenly.

Teas spill over from their containers, their script usually so neat and tidy now smudged and illegible. Bottles clink together in disarray, tipping over and mixing suspensions too soon, and thelittle packets of herbal mixes are not filed so much as flung into their boxes.

Sighing, Shirayuki pushes up her sleeves and gets to work. 

Ordering the bottles into neat lines, she pulls the prescription packets out onto the table top with a swoop of her arm. Picking up one hereand another one there, she reorders each until they make a straight line in order by the names she can make out in the top corner. There’s a couple that are more scrawl than letters, ones that she can figure out with a little more scrutiny and perhaps a talk with Yuuha, but one stands out. It doesn’t have a name so much as a symbol, the inky body of what looks to be a cat lazes across the parchment, the curl of its tail long and looping.

“Suzu?” Shirayuki frowns, staring at the hunchedshoulders of a man furiously attempting to wrap up his final report for theday. His shoulders hunch further, ignoring her and Shirayuk winces when she peers over his shoulderat the illegible mess becoming more like scribbles than words. “Do you knowwhat this is?”

Barely sparing her a glance over his shoulder, he dipshis quill in the inkwell and continues on. He must have plans this evening, so eager he is to leave. “It’s a prescription.”

There are days that she really likes Suzu. Days that sheappreciates him for his intelligence and his candor. And yet there are also days like todaythat she wonders just who raised him. “Yes,” she huffs, holding it towards himin the hope that he’ll actually lookthis time. “But this one doesn’t have a name on it.”

“I always code the medication,” he lies. “It must havebeen one of the apprentices.”

“Suzu.” She is trying to keep the irritation out of her voice, so she flips the packet open, taking a quick sniff. If he can’t identify it, then maybe she can figure out the medication and match it to their records. “Apprentices can’t file themedication without one of us overseeing them.”

“Sounds like one of them didn’t follow procedure,” heshrugs, throwing the quill to the desk and snapping the journal shut before theink has a chance to dry. “And since I am done for the day now, that sounds morelike a Shirayuki problem than a Suzu problem.”

Mouth pressing into a thin line, she stares at him, putting her hands on her hips for good measure.

The look has its intended effect. Eyes flicking to hers, then away, he sets the journal back down on the desk with a weary sigh. 

“Does it really nothave anything on it?”

“No,” she shakes her head, looking down at the little packet cradled in the palm of her hand. “Just a drawingof a cat.”

“Ah!” Suzu squawks, flailing after her. “That’smine!”

“Yours?” Shirayuki’s eyes widen. Sniffing the mix again,she can’t help but quirk her lips to the side. “I don’t think you need to worry aboutgetting pregnant, Suzu.”

He flushes, guilty, and ah- she was right!

“Unless!” Her mouth drops open and she closes in on him,looking about the room to make sure they’re alone. “Are you and Yuzuri-”

“What!” He shakes his head and hands, hair going everywhere. “No!”

Shirayuki’s disbelief must be plain as day on her facefor Suzu’s flush deepens, his skin going ruddy-

“It’s, uhm, for somebody else?” he tries.

Raising a single eyebrow, she holds the packet betweenher fore and middle finger like evidence before the magistrate. “Like who?”

Teeth baring in a grimace, he squeaks out, “No one…important?”

“Uh… huh.”

“Look, just give it to me,” he says, opening his palm toher. “I’ll deliver it so you don’t even have to look at it ever again.”

She pulls it back just before he would snatch it from herhand and meets him full to the eyes. He’s staring at her, beseeching, and shewishes she were more like Kiki. Or Garrack. Or Yuzuri. Or any of her friends,really, who seemed to be born with the innate ability to pry secrets from theirtargets with merely a look.

“Fine,” she says, giving in. “But starting tomorrow, I’m taking the day shift back.”

Suzu’s eyes widen, and she thinks she’s found it - that leverage that Kiki always says that she needs to seek out when her earnestness does not work. The protest is on the tip of his tongue, she can tell, the answers to her questions surrounding his mystery patient. This is her pharmacy, too, after all, she needs to know in case there is some unintended reaction, but-

But the surprise just melts away to a weary acceptance. Suzu nods, plucking the prescription from between her fingers. “Deal.”

~ ~ ~

It’s after he leaves that she lets the guilt gnaw at her.

In the silence of the pharmacy after nightfall, she has nothing but the soothing movement of turning herbs to paste, the piles of papers that need to be graded, or tidying the organizational system that is woefully underutilized in its creators absence. But she can’t bring her mind to focus, can’t find a second to stop remembering that the last look Suzu gave her before he left looked like- like disappointment.

Gnawing on her lip, she paces, trying to outrun the feeling, but it’s no good. Yes, it’s her pharmacy, but it is his, too. And maybe he had a reason - a good reason - to keep it a secret. She had but to ask and-

Shirayuki looks towards the burner, it’s supply of coals surprisingly low, and all her good graces abruptly disappear.

He had all day - all day! - to restock it, and three apprentices at his side, to boot! But a quick check of the stores proves what has been right the last week all along, no matter how often she reminded them. The burlap is distressingly empty, nothing more than a few pebbles lining the bottom of the bag.

Huffing, Shirayuki jots down a quick note - Will Return Soon! - in her cleanest script, throws on her coat, and is immediately almost blown over by a gust of freezing wind the second she walks out the door.

Hugging herself, she crosses the wall, holding her head down to give the wind as little bare skin as possible to attack. It’s only because she has her head bowed that she sees it, sees him. Suzu. Down on the streets below. She stops, his name on her lips, ready to let the sleeping population of Lyrias know just how inconsiderate of a coworker he is, when she witnesses him draws something from his pocket. 

The words she wants to hurl wither on her tongue before they can even form. Without really even knowing why, she ducks a little, peering over the ramparts.

He’s talking to someone, someone half in shadows. A hand reaches out, slim, and takes the packet from him. There’s a pause, Suzu nodding with one of his slow moving shrugs that only appears when he has a meeting with Lata.

Curious.

Thankfully, it’s over quick - the wind is bitter tonight - and he turns to go, leaving his companion in the dark. Shirayuki lingers for a moment, wondering if she will appear, and is just about to give up when-

When she appears from the shadows, both hands wrapped around a steaming mug of spiced ale and- and-

That is not who she was expecting.

~ ~ ~

“You’re being awfully quiet today.”

“Hmm?” Shirayuki chirps, pulled back from her muzzy thoughts.In the early morning hours, lulled by the sound of snow crunching underfoot, it is easy to get lost in the silence, to let amystery unravel on the long winding paths to the dormitories.

“I think-” Shirayuki chews her lower lip, glancing at Obifrom beneath the fan of her lashes. The snow is coming down so silent and so thick that they catch on everything.

Obi laughs, dusting flakes off of the spikes of hishair. The movement is happy, relaxed. She’s been seeing it more and more since he returned from- from the Bargette incident.

“…you think?” he prompts.

So much changed out there. Off, where she could not follow any of them.

It is because of this that the words pull slowly from her, carefully. “I think… Kiki has a lover.”

Obi chuckles. “I wonder.”

She knew it.

“You know!” Her grin spreads wide when his face falls,because of course – of course Obiknows. She grabs ahold of his forearm, bouncing a little when his eyes widen insurprise. “Tell me!”

His mouth gapes, his face darkening with a helpless little flush, and he knows.

“Well,” he coughs, grin pained. “I guess you caught us, Miss.”

The smile drops right off her face like it jumped from a sheer cliff. “Be serious, Obi.”

He stares at her. “I am.”

She stares right back and he’s- he’s teasing her. Stalling for time. He’s got tobe. The mysterious underbelly of Lyrias was something he and his men alone wereprivy to and now here she was, uncovering a mystery he didn’t know how to solve. “Fine,”she sniffs. “If you’re not going to take me seriously, I’ll figure it out on myown.”

“Miss,” helaughs, trailing behind her. “I’m not lying-”

“Just you wait, Obi!” she calls behind her, bootscrunching a new path underfoot. “I’ll figure it out with or without your help!”

[akagami-no-rae]

Dealer's choice pairing, 18. waking up with amnesia au

Song Rec

AO3

Shirayuki woke up on the hardwood floor of… what looked to be a pharmacy and a nice one at that. She didn’t know where this pharmacy was, let alone how she’d gotten on its floor. She pulled herself up feeling a pain in her side and head, being careful to avoid the broken glass. A bottle had been shattered and it’s liquid was seeping into the floor and rug. She looked around the room, disturbed that she still didn’t know where she was and that there was a young man lying next to her.

Noticing him so suddenly made her jump and look around yet again, frantic for someone to help.

“Umm, hello?” She tapped his shoulder and he stirred. “Sir, are you okay?”

The young man sat up suddenly in a crouch and jumped away from her. His blue eyes were wide with alarm and fixed on her for a long while before, “You have strange hair.”

Shirayuki blinked, reaching up to touch her hair, “Yeah I get that a lo-” her hair… she stroked it again, but it ended right at her jaw line. She didn’t remember cutting it.

The young man stood and Shirayuki let go of her hair, “I don’t think you should move around too much.”

He looked around the room with a knit brow, “The pharmacy,” he whispered and relaxed, slightly. He turned to Shirayuki, “Did I take something?”

Shirayuki shook her head, “I wouldn’t know.”

“But, don’t you work here?” he asked and pointed to her chest.

She looked down and saw that she was wearing a necklace with a pink glass pendant. She picked it up to look at it and read, ‘Shirayuki Royal Court Pharmacist of Wistal Castle.’ Shirayuki blinked. That was her name, but she was an herbalist in Tanbarun and Wistal was all the way in Clarines. She rubbed her forehead, unable to make sense of any of this.

“Where’s the chief pharmacist?” he asked. “If she gave me something and I can’t remember, she’d want to know.”

“I-I don’t work here,” she said.

He groaned in frustration and called, “Chief Garrack?” He took a step and crunched some of the glass under his boots. He looked down at the glass shards next to me and jumped back again, “Chief! Chief Garrack!”

There was the sound of running then a door slid open and woman with long blonde hair burst in. “What happened?”

She looked between the panicked young man and Shirayuki on the floor next to shattered glass and hurried to Shirayuki’s side. She took Shirayuki’s hands and turned them over looking for lacerations then turned to the young man. “What happened, Prince Zen?”

“Did you give me something?”

“Wait, what?”

“I don’t remember, did you give me poison?”

“Poison!? What are you talking about?” She turned to Shirayuki hoping for some answers but she just stared at both of them with mounting concern.

“That wasn’t the antidote was it?” he asked pointing at the puddle on the floor amongst the glass.

The woman, Garrack, closed her eyes and held up both her hands, “Okay, you think I gave you a poison dosage.”

“You didn’t?” the price looked relieved.

“No, I didn’t,” she said, and stood to look him in the eyes, “Did you think I was trying to slip it to you without you knowing? We agreed a long time ago that those administrations would all be scheduled and above board. I would never go back on that, your highness.”

The prince looked down and away, “I didn’t think you were lying, I just thought that maybe a side effect of the poison was memory loss and I somehow forgot.”

She crossed her arms, “Well, now I’m concerned. What made you think you were poisoned to begin with?”

“I woke up on the floor. She was there.” he pointed at Shirayuki, “And I didn’t remember how I got there.”

Garrack took the prince by the shoulder and guided him to sit. “Prince Zen, do you know who she is?” she also pointed at Shirayuki but never took her eyes off him. Shirayuki was a little insulted that she didn’t just ask her who she was.

“I thought she worked here, but she says she doesn’t.” the chief whipped her head towards Shirayuki.

“Shirayuki, where do you work, then?”

Shirayuki was a little put off that this stranger knew her name, but she looked genuinely worried, “I just opened an herb shop in Tanbarun.”

Garrack’s eyes where huge, her mouth a thin line of dread. She lifted her sleeve to cover her nose and yelled.

“Ryuu!”

Garrack called for Mitsuhide, Kiki, and Obi to come and see her and explained the situation. The fumes from the shattered bottle had caused Zen and Shirayuki to forget the last two years of their lives.“That means master doesn’t remember me and the miss doesn’t remember meeting any of us?”“The last thing Zen remembers is being grounded for leaving the palace without permission. He thinks he’s not yet eighteen. And Shirayuki last remembers opening her herb shop in Tanbarun.“When will they remember?” Mitsuhide asked.“The mind’s tricky, it could be a couple days, weeks… longer.” Kiki unfolded her arms, “You’re saying that there’s a chance that they’ll never remember?” Garrack nodded, reluctantly. “I’ll do what I can to develop a reversal, but right now, just walk them through their usual routines, be understanding, but treat them like nothing has changed. Familiar sights and smells should help.”Mitsuhide and Kiki nodded to each other. Obi asked, “Who’s going to tell the elder highness?”Mitsuhide’s look of determination turned sickly, “I’ll give it a couple days, but if Zen still doesn’t remember, I’ll have to inform him.” “We’ll look after Zen,” Kiki said, “Obi, stay with Shirayuki.”Obi balked, “Did you forget, too, Miss Kiki? She doesn’t know who I am.” “That didn’t cause her to send you away the first time,” Kiki cocked a grin, “Not to mention, you have a clean slate now.”

The first day was rough. Zen responded to Mitsuhide’s coddling with obstinance. Kiki tried to step in and mediate the situation with reason, but her partner and charge weren‘t the most logical people. She and Mitsuhide ended up spending the evening trying to find Zen who’d run away without telling them. Obi had an easier time with Shirayuki who seemed thrilled to get a chance to have a tour of the pharmacy. Prince Izana was filled in on the situation like Mitsuhide said he would, but to his surprise, Izana took it in stride. “Can’t remember anything from the last two years?” “That’s correct,” Mitsuhide responded with a bowed head.“So he doesn’t remember meeting that red haired pharmacist and she doesn’t remember meeting him?”Mitsuhide looked up to see Izana looking out the window, a coy grin on his face. “Yes, sir,” Mitsuhide watched cautiously, “Will you come see him, I think it might help him recover-““I wonder,” Izana cut him off, “would it be so bad for Zen if he doesn’t remember?”It was rhetorical, Mitsuhide knew that and almost bit his tongue, almost. “Yes, it would.” Izana turned his head to him with narrowed eyes, his smile gone.“Meeting Shirayuki inspired a change in Zen. That person out there who doesn’t have trust in anyone isn’t Zen.” Izana tried to stare Mitsuhide down, but he refused to falter. “Of course,” Izana said slowly, his eyes still narrowed as he looked back out the window, “Forgive me for being optimistic.”

Two weeks passed without change. Zen refused to open up to Mitsuhide so long as he treated him like a child, which was difficult when Zen, himself, kept forgetting that he was nearly twenty. Obi spent the weeks gardening with Shirayuki who took to her old work like nothing was different. Occasionally, though, she’d ask a question that caused him to pause.“How did we meet?” she said one morning over a bed of flowers she was harvesting the seeds of. Obi blinked at her, then shrugged, “We were childhood friends, of course.”“Very funny, Obi.” she said.“It’s true, you were just too young to remember.” She looked at him with a smile and cocked eyebrow, “Tell me, really.” “Okay,” he relented, “We met here in the palace, that was before you were a pharmacist.” “So you were working for the prince, then?”Obi scratched the back of his head, “Not quite yet, no.” Shirayuki put down her work and looked at him, sensing a story. Obi lifted his hands and waved, “It’s really not a great story, miss.” “If it’s something I knew once, help me remember.” Her eyes were so big, “Please, Obi.” Obi sighed, “Fine, miss, you win… the truth is that I’m an ex-assassin who was hired by an evil lord to threaten your life so that you’d be too afraid to return to the palace ever again.” Obi’s hands were lifted by his face where he was scowling ridiculously and wiggling his fingers menacingly. “No, really.” Shirayuki said, unamused. Obi deflated, “But that is the truth, miss.” “What evil lord wanted you to threaten me?” “Okay, maybe ‘evil’ isn’t the right word, maybe… odious?” “Why then?”“Because of your friendship with the prince.” She scrunched her nose. The prince had been rather rude to her the day they forgot. It seemed two years coupled with never knowing her had a large effect on his disposition. “The prince,” she said, trying to make sense of it, “Were we really friends?” “No,” Obi said, to her shock. Everyone had been telling her how close they were, a fact she found hard to believe. She was about to question him when he leaned in close to her partially covering his mouth. “The rumor I heard said that the two of you were lovers.” Shirayuki was mortified. Obi burst into laughter. Shirayuki, beat red, bowed her head until her chin touched her chest. Obi wiped a tear, “Sorry, miss, that joke went a little too far.”She shook her head and knotted her fingers. “I’m so confused.” she whispered. Obi reached out his hand before he knew what he planned to do with it then drew it back. Obi began slowly, cautiously. “You two are close friends and there are such rumors, but the truth is, the miss is someone the prince holds very dear.” Shirayuki lifted her head, her eyes were watery, looking at him. At him. His entire being begged him to end his sentence there… But… “And the prince is a very important person to the miss, too.” Shirayuki looked back down at her work and busied herself, they sat in silence for a minute before she spoke.“Mitsuhide mentioned that when we met we saved each other, do you know what that means?” Zen only ever made small mentions about their meeting to Obi which caused him to have to creatively fill in the gaps. “Once upon a time, there was a spoiled idiot prince. The idiot prince was so used to getting whatever he wanted he thought he could even own a person. However that didn’t sit well with the little red heroine, who ran away from the idiot prince. Then, she met a grumpy prince in the forest. The idiot prince found them and cursed the grumpy prince, so the little red heroine gave herself up in order to free the grumpy prince. That, however, didn’t sit well with the grumpy prince who broke the curse on himself so that he could come to the little red heroine’s side. Together, they vanquished the idiot prince.”Shirayuki’s brow was knit tightly in confusion. “But why did I stay?” she asked, quietly.Obi sighed, again. This was getting troublesome for his heart, “I wasn’t there, I shouldn’t be the one to say.”

Obi and Shirayuki walked out to the gardens carrying empty baskets in their arms. Suddenly their path was cut off by the prince stumbling out in front of them. He looked back over his shoulder and grunted, “He’s driving me insane!”He turned his head to see a shocked Obi and Shirayuki. His glare lingered on Shirayuki, like he was considering her, then he turned to Obi.“You.” He pointed at Obi, “You’re my messager, right?”Obi pointed at himself, “Uum yeah, that’s right, master.”“I told you to stop calling me master.”“Sorry, master.” Obi said with a grin, “I must have forgot.” Zen scowled at him. “Will you please send a message to Mitsuhide saying that I won’t break if I take a walk without him breathing down my neck.”“I have an idea, master,” he handed him his basket, “I’ll go talk to mister while you take a walk with the miss, here.”He was gone before either of them could protest.

“You didn’t actually have to come along with me.” Shirayuki said setting down her basket and kneeling in the dirt. Zen did the same and watched what she was doing.“It would have been rude to say no.”“You don’t have to be worried about my feelings.” she said, “You didn’t seem concerned about them before.”Zen looked sheepish, “I’m sorry if I was rude that day.” “Oh, an apology?”“Yes, I was panicked. These last few weeks have been really confusing.”“I know.” she said, not letting him off the hook. He looked like her reply had slapped him. He stared at her, trying to parse it out, then nodded in acceptance of it. The wind picked up suddenly, rustling the leaves and lifting the smell of warm soil and vegetation. Shirayuki closed her eyes to take it in. The wind wipped around her hair and tickled her nose.She peaked to see the tops of the plants sway and instead saw that Zen was letting the breeze tossle his hair too, a smile crossed his lips, and his chest expanded and fell back with a deep breath. He turned his gaze over the horizon and it landed on Shirayuki, “I love that sound.” She smiled back, “Maybe that’s what we had in common.” “I’m curious about you.”“About us being friends?” It wasn’t really a question, she knew what he meant because she could say the same about him.“Yes. Mitsuhide and Kiki told me how we met.” He noticed that had gotten her attention, “Did they not tell you?”She realized she’d been staring and looked away, “I heard a….funny story, but nothing detailed.”He smirked and began feigning sudden interest in a leaf he’d picked up off the floor. “You’re not going to tell me?” Zen shrugged, “Only if you tell me why people think we’re engaged.” The mortification returned. “I-I don’t know, Obi mentioned rumors about lovers, but…” Zen flushed, “I’m sorry, you don’t have t-”“He said we that we are important to one another. After we saved each other…” she looked around before settling back on those giant blue eyes, “Maybe even the reason I didn’t return to Tanbarun.” Zen nodded slowly, the birds sang during the long silence. “I was worried that you were someone only interested in my title. I-I know that can’t be true, now!” he finished quickly, “Now, that I’ve spoken to you for just this short while.”She stared at him with glistening eyes, “Thank you, Zen.” She blinked suddenly and frantically waved her arms, “Prince Zen, I mean. Sorry, I don’t know where that came from.”Zen laughed, “Shirayuki, If I considered you important once, you’re important to me now.” He extended his hand, “My friends call me Zen.”She reached out and took his hand, a large smile on her face. “Zen.”

[obiyukibinkysfanfiction]

Something Fishy

Zen Wistalia would call himself intuitive, Kihal imagined.

Kihal Toghrul didn’t though, not by a long shot. When she had started working as a consultant from her father’s consultative firm - specialising in communications and public relations - she hadn’t imagined to be the sole PR consultant for Wistalia Technologies.

She had her own office now and was a breath away from Kiki who was Zen’s secretary. She’d found Kiki to be very quiet, except for when she was sternly reprimanding Zen.

At first, she thought that Kiki was probably well on her way to get fired but after learning she’d been here for years Kihal had realised that Zen actually cared what his advisors and employees thought.

He took in their advice, listened and appreciated the help.

Wistalia Technologies was one of the oldest and most successful companies in the world and the CEO, Izana Wistalia, had put it up a notch again.

He had put them on the medicinal map now with their natural vitamins and remedies now on the market and their sales were sky rocketing.

But it had been Kihal that had marketed the change over from technology (selling everything and anything to do with computers and security) to medicine and also conducting research into disease and even cancer.

And Zen Wistalia - he had a big part to play in all this too because although Izana was the CEO, Zen was the one who had the idea to branch out into a different area. Izana had said it was a mistake and had since been proven wrong.

He was a smart business man, hell, he’d been groomed to be one since he was able to go to school.

However, this idea which had been sparked from their discovery at the coffee shop some weeks ago, was not a good idea. It had been pure luck that he had found out and now? Well, it was just so Zen to try and get it all out in the open now that he knew about it.

“It isn’t a transfer, Shirayuki, you will be back-” explained Zen, smiling down at Shirayuki.

The red head nodded, looking to Yuzuri and Ryuu with uncertainty, but when their faces lit up with professional curiosity, she turned to beam up at Zen Wistalia.

Ryuu held a chart in his hand, placing a pen back into his lab coat pocket and faced Zen.

“And we will go with her, correct?”

Zen nodded.

“I heard the security is bad there though - the lab has been broken into by several animal activist groups-” began Yuzuri skeptically, placing an index finger and thumb to her chin in deep thought.

Shirayuki began to unbutton her lab coat, removing it from her arms until the coat was in her arms.

“We’ll take some security personnel with us, won’t we Zen?”

Zen smiled with a knowing look in his eye. He’d been waiting for her to say that...

Kihal stood behind him and rolled her eyes. Jesus, Shirayuki, don’t give him what he wants... she thought and sighed audibly.

“We need to turn around the reputation of the lab in Lyrias and you Shirayuki always manage to make lemonade out of lemons so this will be a great opportunity, you can take Obi-”

“No, I need Obi here,” said Zen suddenly, turning behind him to wink down at Kihal.

Zen patiently waited in his office, giving Kihal a look who stood beside him with a folder held to her chest.

She wasn’t pleased, he knew that, but this ‘half-prank’ was the only satisfaction he would get for a long while, so he could deal with the cold shoulder from Kihal for a little while.

Zen held his hands folded together in front of him on the desk and 3...2...1...

The doors barged open and a displeased security officer slammed the doors closed behind him - much to Kiki’s protests (to which Zen waved her away) - and strutted toward Zen’s large mahogany desk.

“You’re sending Mihaya?! He doesn’t even technically work here, Master! He’s contracted and even works sometimes for Shenezard Corp!” exclaimed Obi, his eyes narrowed. “He’s not nearly as skilled as I am-”

Zen held up his hand, pursing his lips.

Now, this was going to be interesting.

“I need you here-”

“Master, you know that’s not true, Mister is here and you have a dozen other security personnel,” explained Obi, trying to reason with Zen.

Obi stood at his full height now, arms folded over his chest and held back the urge to narrow his eyes down at his employer.

But seriously...Mihaya? The jackass that had hit on Shirayuki in front of him and even tried to kiss her last year at the company Christmas party, although, he was never going to try that one again.

“Fuck! I think...I think you broke my nose, asshole!”

Obi shrugged with a smirk on his lips as he shook his right fist in front of him after it had landed in Mihaya’s face.

He felt small hands grip the back of his suit jacket, knowing it was his Miss and looked down behind him to see Shirayuki’s half-grateful gaze. But could also see disappointment.

“Lets go dance, Obi,” she smiled, urging him to leave Mihaya be. “After I tend to your split knuckle.”

Obi beamed down at her, following her without protest through the dance floor, giving one last glare over at the brown haired sleaze. They passed all the drunken dancers, toward the exit where she was probably going to reprimand him for the violence.

But there was one good thing about getting hurt in the line of ‘duty’ and that was the healing hands that belonged to his Miss.

“Why do you want to go with her?” asked Zen, innocently, glancing up at Kihal for a second before his cool blue orbs met Obi’s once again.

Now Obi narrowed his eyes.

“Is it because you’ll miss her?”

Obi’s face went blank.

Maybe he had been a little miffed that the Master hadn’t asked him to go with her. But that wasn’t the point...the point was Mihaya was not nearly as skilled at protection detail and security assessment as he was.

That was the point...not that he wouldn’t see her for months at a time.

“Master, its my job to keep her safe-”

“Correction. Its your job to keep all my employees safe.”

“Yes but the Miss especially since she is your head of research-”

“I won’t send you unless you tell me what the real reason is for wanting to go.”

Obi had his mouth open to say something but then shut it after hearing Zen’s last statement. He stared down at his Master who sat at his desk, his jaw tightened, wondering if he should just give in and tell him.

“Obi,” said a soft voice from beside Zen.

He finally noticed Zen’s PR agent standing beside him and regarded her for a moment.

“Its okay to admit that you’ll miss her. We all will, especially on the basketball team,” Kihal laughed, walking closer to the desk and placing a free hand on Zen’s shoulder. “Just say it...and he’ll let you go with her.”

Zen nodded in agreement and placed his opposite hand on top of Kihal’s.

“Look, its pretty obvious there’s something going on between you two...”

Obi narrowed his eyes at his Master again...he was going to send Obi anyway but the sly dog wanted him to admit his feelings for Shirayuki.

Two could play at that game. A playful glint glowed in Obi’s eyes and a smirk graced his lips as he placed his hands on the end of Zen’s desk, leaning down with his back arched, meeting Zen’s gaze.

“You want me to admit to something that isn’t there, Master...you’re sending me anyway, so just say it.”

Zen’s eyes widened. “You can’t fool me, Obi, I know-”

But Obi leaned back and started to walk toward the doors leading out of Zen’s over bearing office.

“I’ll be packing for Winter, let the Miss know I’m coming.”

“Obi!”

The security officer turned with a raised eyebrow, his hand on the handle of the door.

“What do you think of her?”

Obi pursed his lips for a moment, his eyes glazing over as his mind automatically thought of silky, apple red hair, creamy soft skin beneath his calloused hands, a hearty laugh that slipped through her lips when he told her a funny story...lustful forest green orbs and the feeling of her naked body over his.

“I wonder...” began Obi, his face wistful and nostalgic, realising he was talking aloud now and stopped himself before anything incriminating came out of his mouth.

And then his expression suddenly changed back to a hard mask he’d perfected over the years. “She’s an amazing woman,” he’d opted to say, quietly as he opened the doors, leaving a less than satisfied Zen and a surprised Kihal in his wake.

“That plan almost backfired,” snapped Kihal when suddenly strong arms wrapped around her middle, pulling her onto Zen’s lap.

“It did, really. But at least I got a compliment out of him.”

Kihal was about to retort when his lips were on hers before she could protest.

[thelikesofus]

Slipping Through The Cracks (ObiYuki)

"It is not often that he lets anything slip between the cracks in his carefully constructed facade, and she knows that right now she will have to be the glue to fill in the gaps."

---

She often wondered about him. About his past. All the things he'd seen, what hid behind those steady, golden eyes. Sometimes she would catch him, during a particularly long day, staring off into the distance as if lost in thought.

She worried sometimes, about how he hid everything away from the world, wondered how he did it. Sometimes he seemed so open, she would feel like maybe she knew all there was to know about him, and other times it was as if she knew nothing at all. He was like an impenetrable wall that every so often became a membrane, allowing very small bits of emotion to dribble through.

Those were moments that she treasured. Precious moments which drew her slowly closer to the illusive man she would easily dub her best friend.

Their current situation was an interesting one. Shirayuki often traveled outside of Wistal Castle and to neighboring countries to gather uncommon herbs for herself and Ryuu to study and for creating new antidotes. She was always left in awe of the share volume of medicinal herbs and plants that she had yet to learn about.

Zen of course was apprehensive about her leaving on her own for extending periods of time, especially when her travels often took her further a field than a day's journey. Obi of course, faithful as ever, followed along with her and would have done so even without the prince's direction.

This time they had traveled nearly four days ride to a small town by the name of Saint Duncan's Ridge. Tucked behind some of the tallest Tanbarun mountains, and sheltered in a vegetation rich valley, Saint Duncan's was not an easy place to get to and although her riding skilled had been improving under Obi's instruction, Shirayuki did not yet have the confidence to lead her own horse through such rough terrain, and so she and Obi had doubled on his mount.

The last three nights had been spent at small inns along the way, and one night in the small tents they had packed into the saddle bags. Tonight however, having reached their destination they had found themselves in another predicament. There purpose of coming to this town had been on a whim. Ryuu had been reading through some old journals and had found mention of a flower that supposedly did wonders for back pain and dizzy spells. Said plant only grew in the Tanbarun mountains and there had been specific mention of Saint Duncan's Ridge as the best place to find it in large quantities.

It took longer to convince Zen to let her go, due to the distance and also having to cross over Clarines' borders. Eventually though, with Obi's promise for no harm to come to their red headed friend, they had set off. Now, upon their arrival, Obi and Shirayuki had found that Saint Duncan's Ridge was a tiny, haunted looking town, whose occupants were not overly friendly.

Not planning on staying longer than necessary, Obi had paid a stable boy to lodge their horse overnight and he and Shirayuki planned to gather as much of the flower the next day on their way out of town.

The next obstacle to cover though was their own board, and Saint Duncan's Ridge seemed to only have the one inn. A small, rickety looking shack run by a standoffish and grumpy older woman. Neither herself or the building looked fit for having guests but it was the best they were going to get without spending another night in their tents, and with rain on the horizon they had decided it best not to risk getting ill before the journey home.

The inn itself went by the name of Duncan's Ditch, a name about as appealing as the building itself, and comprised of only three rentable rooms. Two of which had double sized beds, and one of which had two singles. During stays at previous inns, Shirayuki and Obi had hired separate, single rooms but found that this time it would not be so simple.

The double rooms at The Ditch cost almost twice as much as the single, and with limited funds for the journey home, they came to the conclusion that they would have to put aside proper conduct for the night and share a room.

At first Shirayuki had been apprehensive about sharing the same room as her body guard, something she had only done once before and at time it had not just been her in the room, but eventually decided that she would feel safer the closer to him she was and in this peculiar, dead end town, would take all the security she could get.

Before bed they took turns using the adjoining bathroom to change into sleeping attire and wash their faces, which were dry and dusty from travel.

"Are you sure this is okay, Miss?" Obi questioned her once again.

"Yes Obi, I'm sure it will be fine." She smiles up at him reassuringly. "I trust you." She knows that he already knows this, and that she didn't really need to add it, but she also knows that he still likes to hear it. He often second guesses himself when it comes to his worth in another's eyes and this again is something she wonders if is a steam from a part of his past.

She can see the gratefulness in his eyes upon hearing her worlds, the stronger set to his shoulders. Smiling at him once more she then moves towards her small bed and tugs the covers over her cold legs.

Both beds are pushed again the wall opposite the door to the bathroom door, a small bedside table set between them. The door into the hallway is in the other wall with a small, single paned window set into the wall opposite. The room itself is barely six meters long, from door to window, and less than half as wide. The two travelers have had to shuffle around each other awkwardly since they entered the room and only now that they are both on or in their separate beds, does it feel like there is any room to breath between them.

Obi is perched on the edge of his bed, his legs crossed like a school kid and one of his knives in his hand as he carefully sharpens it's edges. He looks so relaxed, Shirayuki thinks, a roof over his head and his shoulders slack beneath his dark undershirt.

Distracted by the slope of his collar bones and the tip of the silvery scare that peaks from beneath the neckline, she turns her attention back towards his carefull, long fingered hands, watching how they gracefully drag the blade across the file.

"You should get some sleep, Obi." Shirayuki claims as she herself shuffle under the covers, pulling them tightly up under her chin.

"I will miss, don't worry." He looks up briefly, "I just need to finish this first."

"Okay, just don't stay up too long."

"I won't." He assures his companion with a small smile. Content with that she rolls away from him to face the window, resting as comfortably as she can against the lumping mattress. She listens to the methodical sound of metal against metal as Obi finishes the task at hand. About ten minutes later he seems to finish and reaches up to turn of the light.

"Goodnight, Miss." he whispers into the darkness of the room and pretending to already be asleep she does not reply, only listens as he too settles into his bed closest to the door, protective even in slumber. Shirayuki finally closes her own eyes and allows the tendrils of sleep to pull her under.

It could of minutes of even hours later that she is woken by a rustle sound from the bed next to her. Assuming it is Obi getting up to use the bathroom, she ignore us and tries to return to her dreamy state. However the sound persists and is soon paired with low groaning noises and the occasional mumbled word.

Slowly Shirayuki rolls over to confirm that Obi is indeed still asleep but seems to be dreaming. Dismissing it as nonsense sleep talk she rolls back the other way and settles into the warm cocoon of blankets she has created.

Just as she is about to fall back asleep a scream is torn from Obi's throats and she startled awake and vaults upright on her bed. Looking across as her friend she finds him tossing violently against the mattress, his face screwed up and haunting in the low gleam of the moon.

For a moment she remains stock still in a state of shook, Obi's usually carefully composed facade crumbling before her very eyes. And then she is out of bed and hurrying across the floor, the wood cold and rough against her feet, towards Obi's bed.

"Obi?" She questions lightly as she perches on the very edge of the bed, just out of reach of his flailing arms. Beads of sweat coating his clammy skin. He doesn't respond, only groans again in protest to whatever it is he is seeing behind his eyelids.

"Obi, wake up." She tries again this time reaching out to rest a hand reassuringly on his shoulder, shaking lightly in hopes of waking him. There is still no response as another strangled gasp is ripped from his through, a dry sandpaper sound followed by the spilling of tiny tear drops from the corners of his eyes, screwed tightly shut.

"Hey, hey wake up Obi!" She is more desperate now. Never before has she seen his so ruined, so desperate and it breaks her heart just to hear him sound so distressed. How often do these dream visit him? How often does he wake alone and in a sweat, his chest heaving, the only indication the he is still alive, that none of it was real.

She moves closer on the bed so that she is practically hanging over the top of him. She reaches a hand out to brush the tears from his face and rests both hands on his shoulders, gripping tightly.

"Come on, please!" She calls to him through his thrashing, holding him still against the mattress as best she can. But he is a lot stronger than she is. "It's just a dream, Obi. Wake up."

Then quick as a flash and before she can react his long, slim hands, the same ones she watched, so carefully sharpening the knife just hours earlier, are around her throat. He has flipped her over, her back now against the mattress, pushing her down into the springs. He is leaning right over her, his eyes wide and wild. But glazed as if he still believes he is dreaming.

She gasps against his grip, her hand wrapped around his upper arm, trying to loosen his grip as she fights for breath.

"Obi!" Her voice is strangled and weak but determined. "It's me, it's Shirayuki! You're okay."

He stares at her in confusion, a snarl on his lips and fire in his eyes but his grip on her throat loosens briefly. This is her chance.

"Obi," she says softly. "you can let go, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

Very slowly, his fingers retract themselves from her and his eyes begin to clear. A look of pain and realization cross his features as she sits up and shuffles back from him to rest against the head board. She is not moving away in fear, but to give him room to breath and to allow him to get his bearings once again. His golden eyes look up to meet hers and his mouth trembles ever so slightly.

"Oh god," he shakes his head, looks down as his hands in horror before pushing the heals of his palms against his eyes. "Oh god! I'm so sorry Miss."

For a moment he looks as if he is considering running away, as far as possible and never returning. But he would feel worse for leaving her than he ever could for staying. With watery eyes and a sniffling gasp he topples forward, resting his head against her shoulder as his hands know themselves into her night shirt.

"I'm so sorry." He repeats over and over as his tears dampen her clothes. Her arms come up around a him, calming his shacking shoulders. Running reassuringly through his short hair.

"It's okay." Shirayuki whispers into his ear, her cheek resting against the side of his head. "You're okay. I've got you."

It is hours before his breaths begin to even out, exhaustion taking over the grief and the guilt. Shirayuki continues to mumble into his ear long after he falls asleep, her back still resting low against the head board, his head resting on her chest, an arm around her waist. Soft snore follow from his mouth with every exhale.

Her fingers still card through his hair, rubbing along his back until the small hours of the morning. Pressing her lips gently against his forehead she kisses him lightly before allowing her own eyes to fall shut. When the sun rises the next day that are both sounds asleep, curled together in the small single bed. Shirayuki wakes briefly to see Obi's resting face, peaceful and lineless, totally at ease. She runs a hand over the back of his head, smiley lightly as he presses himself closer. She closes her eyes once again. The flowers can wait, right now, this is where she needs to be.

---

Hey Guys, thanks for reading. Let me know what you think and if you have any prompt suggestions I'd more more than happy to give them a go. :)

[owlsshadows]

Day 7: Wife (protect)

“Even though everyone thinks of her as your betrothed,” Ryuu says one day out of the blue, startling Obi, “she always avoids the topic of marriage.”

He is right.

It’s not like Obi never noticed; no matter in what connotation marriage comes up, Shirayuki always manages to change the topic or escape the scene swiftly – but it’s different when he notices something and when Ryuu is bothered by it so much he decides to speak up.

It gets Obi thinking.

He knows that Shirayuki does not avoid speaking of marriage because she rejects the idea of marrying him – but it outright enrages him to think that it is most probably because she thinks she is not worthy of happiness. Because she thinks that her years on the streets have tainted her, making her something ugly and undeserving.

She’s been a girl who knew happiness. She was not born on the streets. She was someone her parents wanted and expected; someone who was loved, whose wishes were listened to. Someone who could laugh openly – whose mischief was always forgiven, because no matter how tough Mukaze looks, he has always had a soft spot for his daughter. She was once a carefree child, someone her parents cherished a lot.

If not for the cruel twist of fate which led her to live the way she did, she would be flirting with young men just like Yuzuri.

Yet Shirayuki feels dirty, for she killed to survive.

Obi knows that he can’t undo the past – but he is determined to do anything within his reach in order to free her from her ghosts.

 Izana

 Obi barges into the room before the footman could announce him. The king looks up, signaling the servant to leave.

“Obi-kun. What a rare sight. What brings you to Wistal?”

“I want you to refrain from sending Shirayuki on missions to the slums ever again.”

“I wonder if this is the tone a court pharmacist shall talk to their king,” he muses, waving Obi closer to his desk.

“You’re not my king,” Obi says, bobbing his head to the side. “I’m a citizen of Tanbarun. To me, you’re just the brother of my friend.”

“I wonder, whether you came here with the intention of talking to the ‘brother of a friend’ or the king, though. From your request phrased so kindly, it seems the correct answer’s the latter.”

“I came today to speak to you, the employer of the knights of Clarines, asking you to free a knight of yours,” Obi reiterates.

Izana gives him a look.

“She is one of my favorite knights. She saved my life.”

“She saves my life every day.”

“But you are no king.”

“But I could be,” Obi hisses.

Izana raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

“I assume I’m speaking with Obi Shenazard, then,” he says, inciting nothing but a wicked smile out of Obi. He is not denying a thing. Izana pauses long, eyes never leaving Obi’s face, before he starts talking again. “I knighted Lady Shirayuki upon her tremendous help in the Bergatt uprising and she has been a great help since.”

“I’m not asking you to never call her to your aide again. That would hurt Shirayuki, too. But I want you to never send her to places that can remind her of her… upbringing.”

“And what is the merit for me, her employer,” Izana smiles, all but amicable, “in this? Why would I go along with this seemingly selfish request of the bastard of the neighboring king?”

“I plan to marry Shirayuki,” Obi says. “Which also means that I will no longer cause a threat to your brother’s reputation.”

 Garrack

 “How do you get someone believe in your love if they think they are not worthy of it?”

“I thought you have a question about your work schedule,” Garrack comments, putting her papers away, “but what makes you think I can give you an answer?”

“You managed to marry Shidan.”

“Well, that was a tough nut to crack indeed. He didn’t want to court me until his rank was higher than mine…”

“But you are the highest ranking pharmacist in Clarines.”

“That’s it.”

“So? How did you do it?”

“Just between the two of us, Obi-kun… I seduced and threatened him.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh, so unbelieving, you are so not cute. But I did threaten him. I told him that if he is not going to ask me within a year, I will marry someone else.”

“That… won’t work,” Obi says, sighing softly. “If I told her I’m marrying someone else, she would congratulate me and wish me the best.”

“That, I can imagine. Good luck,” the head pharmacist nods. “You will need it.”

 Suzu

 “So… today I kissed Yuzuri.”

“Congratulations,” Obi says monotone, not looking up from his book.

“Not gonna ask how it went?”

“How did it go?” he asks obediently, much to Suzu’s displeasure.

“Thanks Obi, for asking,” he says, flashing a fake grin. “I got slapped. At first. But then she returned my kiss, and we got a little… hot.”

“Sounds great.”

“What about you?” Suzu creeps on him from behind, curly blonde hair tickling his ears as his friend clings onto him, laying his head on his shoulder. “You seem to be moody nowadays. Something wrong?”

“Hmm.”

“Oh yeah, totally. I get the ‘hmm’ too, sometimes, and it makes me forget meals and gets me grumpy for days.”

“Shirayuki,” Obi starts, pushing Suzu’s chin off of his collar, “she doesn’t… treat me as equal.”

“Do you feel oppressed?” Suzu asks, stunned.

“The opposite!” Obi lets out a short, not-so-happy laugh. “I feel like she puts me on a pedestal. She rejects my love, thinking she doesn’t deserve it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well…” Suzu starts, walking around Obi like a well-fed cat, to stop right in front of him and grab him by the shoulders. “As a friend, I must admit that I’ve always found you had some weird taste in women. Shirayuki is a good kid, she is just… a bit lethal, you know, with all her knives and poisons. Not really the type people would normally want to cuddle all day. I get that you want, I get it. The thing is, she is not your average girl. The way she sees things may be different from how you and I do.”

“So? What is your advice, Mr Finally-Kissed-the-Girl?”

“You can’t just be all smooth with Shirayuki. She’s way too invested in her role. You need to tell her why things happen, otherwise she would assume that it’s all part of your little guard-game.”

“… so?”

“Did you hold her hand?” Suzu turns his own question against him. Obi huffs, ruffling his hair in frustration.

“Yes.”

“But did you tell her that you are holding her hand because it makes your heart go crazy?”

“Well…”

“Did you tell her you love her?”

“I did…”

“With these exact words?”

“No, but it doesn’t really…”

“Oh yes, it matters. If you think she would get your hints, you are mistaken. To get your hints, she would need to have confidence in herself, and believe me, the man with the least confidence in town, Yuzuri could invite me to her room and make me sit on her bed, but I wouldn’t even dare to think that she was trying to seduce me. Subtle just doesn’t work, when you love someone but you are sure they wouldn’t see you the same way…”

 Ryuu

 “You were rejected again.”

“Thanks for pointing it out. I appreciate the support.”

“Maybe you should change tactics.”

“But how? I tried the honest method, holding her hand and looking into her eye, kneeling before her and she still thought I was joking!”

“It’s your fault, you know,” Ryuu says, undoing the buttons on his winter coat. “You brought up marriage way too many times lightheartedly, now she can’t take you seriously.”

“But… I just… feel the urge to say something funny when I get nervous.”

“Well. I feel like hiding when I’m nervous.”

“I’ve never seen you truly nervous.”

“I’m just very good at hiding.”

 Shirayuki

“Shirayuki,” Obi says one day, when she sets out their plates to eat. “Let’s get married!”

It’s not the first time he proposes – maybe the third in one week, but at least the thousandth overall.

“I’m not marrying,” Shirayuki says, just as always. “This one’s absolute.”

“Why?” Obi asks unfazed, so used to rejection now that he can’t be bothered. “You don’t find a court pharmacist to be a good match? Would you be happier to marry a king? Should I go back to Tanbarun and challenge Raji for the throne?”

“No! It’s not about…”

“But now that this option has come up, it’s worth mentioning that it might make our father happy. He has always worried for his country if Raji was to inherit the throne… I advised him to crown Rona, but never thought about the possibility of myself as the next king…”

“Obi!” Shirayuki slams her spoon in her soup. “I. Am. Not. Fit. For. Marriage. Please stop joking.”

“Shirayuki,” Obi replies in kind. “First of all, I appreciate that you finally decided to use my name, I would’ve been devastated if we jumped from ‘Mister’ to ‘Husband’. Secondly,” he continues, raising his voice, “I think it’s up to me to decide whether I find you worthy of my love or not.”

“Yes, it is!” Shirayuki raises from her seat. “But you should choose someone who is…”

“You! I choose you. I chose you ages ago and I will always choose you! Get this through that thick head of yours, for once and for all: I am in love with you. I want to marry you. I want to put babies in your belly. I want to get old by your side. And never since I met you was I considering anyone else.”

Shirayuki looks at him as if she has seen a ghost.

“I’m afraid it’s not possible, Mister,” she says, trembling.

“Shirayuki. Please,” Obi breathes.

“I can’t.”

That’s all it takes, the next moment she is out of the room.

“As if I’d let you,” Obi grumbles, leaping to the door in one huge step, ready to run for his life – only to bump into her right in front of his doorstep, sweeping her off of her feet and landing on top of her in the snow.

“Ouch,” the girl says, looking up at him. Her face looks puffy – almost as if she cried. She may be the fighter skilled enough to win tournaments; she may be the sole woman knighted by Izana for her achievements – she is still very much a girl, shivering in the snow.

She is the girl he loves.

“I’m sorry,” Obi moves, brushing the snow out of her hair. “Are you hurt anywhere?” he pulls her in an embrace, cradling her small frame against his chest.

“I’m fine,” she breathes in in huge, hiccup like gulps. “It’s just… a bit too much. I’m just… I’m so… inadequate.”

“You couldn’t be more perfect,” he kisses the top of her head. “You have no idea how worthy you are. You would make the best wife, if you let me, I would make you the happiest wife.”

“Are you sure this is not a joke, Mister?”

“It’s Obi,” he stands, carrying her back to the room.

“Are you really fine, marrying me… Obi?” Shirayuki asks, clinging to him like a baby monkey until he plops her down on her chair.

“I wouldn’t be fine marrying anyone else,” Obi replies, kneeling down beside her. “I’m deeply hurt that you don’t believe me.”

“I… I do. But I can’t. But I do!” Shirayuki exclaims, confusing herself.

“Now, which one is it?” Obi snorts.

“Both,” the girl replies. The gentle touch on her chin makes her look up, losing herself in his deep golden eyes.

“Shirayuki.”

“Yes, Mist… Obi?” she squeaks.

“Please be my wife.”

“I would like to,” she says, in a voice so small Obi has to focus hard to hear it. “But I don’t dare to.”

“Is it frightening? The thought of marriage?”

“No…”

“Then, are you not happy with me? Would you like me to become a king? I was joking before, but if you ask me to, I would more than happily make you my queen…”

“I always… feel like a queen by your side.”

“So?” Obi looks up, hands clasped around hers. She shrugs, slowly melting off the chair to hug him.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“Still no?”

Shirayuki leans back brushing through Obi’s hair to have a better look of his face.

“I’m sorry I rejected you so many times. I’ve always… always wanted to marry you.”

“But?” Obi asks back, slightly panicked.

“There’s no ‘but’,” Shirayuki plants a small, shy kiss on his forehead. “Marry me please.”

[sabraeal]

Minimum Distance

If there’s one thing Obi’s sure of, it’s that this is Hisame’s fault.

Not the lockdown-- though honestly, he wouldn’t put it past the bastard if it meant having things go his way-- but everything else. This fucking party. That stupid fake dating plan. The kiss.

He scrapes a hand down his face. This whole ‘day trip’ is turning right into a disaster weekend and god, if he had the ability to fly right back to DC right now, he would. But instead he’s trapped here, in the middle of the New Mexican desert, in the Smart House of some elusive and shady billionaire. He must have kicked a puppy in the last life-- no, bags of puppies-- if the universe is exerting this level of karmic violence on him.

His back hits the door. He needs like, five minutes. Just until he learns how to breathe again.

Which he’s not going to do, if he keeps replaying that kiss in his head. You know, the only thing he’s been doing for the past twenty-four hours, including breakfast, where Rougis just stared at him with that grin on his face. Like he knew. Like he could somehow see every last mortifying second of his dreams last night, and thought it was funny.

Doc’s informed him this whole pandemic thing is serious, that there’s stuff with r’s and knots and things being close to two. He is tangentially aware aware of how a logarithmic scale works, and he’d never wish anyone actually sick, but-- if Hisame could just shuffle off this mortal coil in the next few hours, that would really pluck one of the bigger monkeys off his back.

He takes a deep breath-- more like a deep hiccup, honestly-- and lets the tension fall out of him. It’s fine. He doesn’t have time to stand here and freestyle mental scream. He has to work on getting them back home. Which means getting this Rugilia guy to sign off on funding.

And then he can hop on a plane, pandemic permitting, and get instantly fired for kissing his boss’s girlfriend. Bingo bango bongo. Job well done.

God, it would be just great if he could resist fucking up just one good thing in his life. At least Ryuu will still write.

Right, no time for catastrophizing. They’ve got a billionaire to woo. Or something.

He swings open his door-- no, it’s her door, but also his, because switching rooms seemed prudent when the guy holding all the keys spent a night trying to get Doc alone in a garden-- only to run into Doc. Literally. Right there. In her borrowed pajamas.

Whatever intel Rugilia had on her was clearly not as good as his, since Doc is really a matching pajama sets kind of girl, and not--

Well, after living with her for three years, Obi can firmly say he’s never seen a cotton teddy. At least, not on Doc herself.

He could get used to it, though.

“Oh, Obi!” She blinks, taking a step back. Adjusts her glasses, too. Tugs at a hem that is not going to get any lower, no matter how much she tries. “I was just coming to see you.”

“Ah.” He scrubs at the back of his head; it gives him as good an excuse as any for looking anywhere else. If he gives her more than a glance he’ll start counting freckles, and well-- they have separate rooms for a reason “Me, too. I was thinking--”

“The room thing isn’t going to work.”

He blinks. Blinks again.

“I mean...” Her cheeks bloom to a pale pink, the start of what’s sure to be a painful blush. “We should be sharing a room.”

He hopes there’s an actual, medical doctor in this group of useless socialites, because he’s about to have a cardiac event, and Doc’s doesn’t have the right alphabet soup to handle that kind of thing. “UH.”

“No, no!” She waves her hands, and god, they’re so close her fingertips practically brush his chest. Which wouldn’t be a problem if she didn’t follow up with, “I just mean, we should be sleeping together.”

Oh, it’s too late for medical intervention now; he’s already dead. “Ah, Doc--?”

“I just mean,” she yelps, fingers fluttering nervously between them, making it real hard to not look down and get some solid ideas about her cup size. “I know we switched rooms. For safety.”

“For safety,” he echoes dumbly, because that’s the level of thought he’s at right now. Or at least, the level he can safely be at without risking a real containment breach on all the things he’s not allowed to think when Doc’s around, wearing almost nothing, and telling him they need to put their bodies in close, horizontal proximity.

“But if we’re trying to be a couple, I don’t think...” Her tongue pokes out, pink and spongy, and draws his eyes right to the lips he definitely shouldn’t be staring at. “Well, I just don’t think that we-- that you-- that it looks--?”

“You mean,” he says, so slow, like she’s a rogue possum and he’s animal control, “I don’t look like the kind of guy who wouldn’t be taking advantage of a king bed and silk sheets?”

“Ah...” She’s the one that blinks now, eyelashes fluttering against red cheeks that are begging him to take their temperature. “Not-- not the way you were, um...”

She lets the implication hand in the air, and god, fuck Rougis for putting that fucking idea in his head, for even allowing the memory of her against him like that, sighing into his mouth--

“I thought we were supposed to be keeping it on the down low,” he says, leaning in with a grin. “Since you’re slumming it with the help.”

Her mouth goes from sexy to scowl. “I’m not slumming it with anyone.”

“Right, right, I know that,” he assure her, “but Rugilia--”

“No.” It’s loud enough that he flinches, because fuck, he can pretend to be normal all the live long day, but the second a voice raises-- “Oh, Obi, sorry, I didn’t--” her palm wraps warmly around his arm, thumb rubbing over the cotton of his sleeve-- “I just meant that I’m not-- it’s not-- being with you isn’t slumming.”

It’s all a little much having her so close, having so little of her be clothed, and smell so good as she does. She must have taken a shower or something before rushing out here to make herself his own personal problem.  In any case, all he manages is a half-dubious, half-distracted hum.

“Besides,” she adds, one of her eyebrows rounding in a teasing arch, “as far as I was aware, doctors and lawyers were considered the same pay grade.”

Obi coughs on his own spit. “I’m not a lawyer.”

“And I’m not that kind of doctor.” Her arms fold neatly-- distractingly-- beneath her breasts, A cups giving off a distinctly B-cup vibe. “But Eisetsu doesn’t know that. I told him I was here about a vaccine, and you said you were here to keep me out of trouble.”

And with a man used to dealing with pharma rather than the academic side, the legal representation would be implied. Obi scrubs a hand through his hair, staring down at his silk pajama set, and tries to discern what about him says ‘went to a four-year college,’ let alone law school. “Me?”

“Well...” She really shouldn’t look at him like that, all coy from the corner of those big eyes, if he can’t give her a repeat performance of last night. “It only makes sense. I mean, who else does Zen hang out with.”

Now, that-- that gives him pause. Mitsuhide, lawyer. Kiki, lawyer. Doc, doctor, but Not That Kind. Him--

“Fuck me,” he breathes, “that actually makes sense.”

“It does,” she agrees primly. “I’d thought the keeping it quiet angle was more along the line of, uh, conflict of interest, rather than, um, other reasons.”

Other reasons, like that half of his other aliases were on No Fly lists. “Conflict of Interest?”

“Well, um...” Her flush is brighter this time, spilling over her cheeks and down her neck, flirting with the lace edging her neckline, and he certainly is feeling both conflicted and interested about how far it might go-- “There’s probably fraternization rules.”

He blinks. “Fraternization?”

“You know,” she says slowly, taking a step back, right into the doorway of her-- his room. “That employees can’t date or, um--” her skin’s barely a shade lighter than her hair-- “do other stuff. At least without clearing with HR first.”

It shouldn’t be so cute that a woman with a doctorate can’t say sex, but this is it, this is his type now.

“Other stuff, hm?” He steps close, their toes sharing the jamb. So close that when she sucks in a breath, shallow and quick, her chest brushes against his. “If we’re supposed to be fraternizing in this room tonight, a few things are going to have to change.”

She shuffles back, an arm’s length--one of hers, at least-- toes curling on the carpet. “O-oh?”

The thing is: Obi can’t resist a good joke. It’s why he works so good with the boss-man; no matter how transparent, how dumb it is, all his teasing crawls right under that lily-white thin skin of his and sends Wisteria climbing right up the wall. It’s satisfying.

So when he closes the gap between them with a single long stride, he expects Doc to just-- tell him to quit it. Yelp maybe. Slap his chest. Scold him, if he’s lucky.

But instead she just peers up at him, chest quivering, and doesn’t get the joke. By the way she’s looking at him, she--

Ah, well, it doesn’t look like she minds overly much either. Which is going to make this Not Funny real quick in a southerly direction.

Strange, he doesn’t feel much like laughing either.

“The bed.” His hips guide her back a step, then two. “For one.”

She really needs to stop him, to put her foot down, to really get it through to the parts of him below the belt that she’s not interested in bringing some realism to this little show they’re putting on.

Instead, she lets him herd her four more steps back, body following every slow, rolling suggestion of his. “Bed?”

“Yeah.” Her knees hit the edge of the mattress-- well, considering how tall these beds are, her waist. She wobbles, hands bracing on his chest. “We need to get this bed messy.”

Her breath sighs into the air between them, eyes so round, so dark, and--

She realizes what he’s about to do five seconds too late. “Obi, n--!”

Feathers fly everywhere. Damn, this Rugilia guy really did spare no expense.

There’s a long, quiet moment, Shirayuki staring up at him with confusion and betrayal warring in her eyes, and she-- she laughs. It’s all the warning he gets before he’s blind-sided, pillow knocking him to his knees, and god, she’s going to regret starting a fight with--

Tap tap. Tap tap.

They both freeze, staring at one another. That was on the door. Her door. No, his door.

“It’s Eisetsu,” comes the soft voice through it. “Can we talk?”

[realtacuardach]

Sunsets Suit You

Thanks to bubblesthemonsterartist for the beta!

...

Shirayuki squinted against the bright hues of sunset as she tilted her head to one side and looked up at the fortress’ tower. The stones of the tower were craggy and gray, an intimidating sight to those who would attempt to storm the walls, and so the bright splash of color stood out clearly as it waved with the wind.

Most people would simply smile at the bright blossom and go with their day, but Shirayuki wasn’t most people. She smiled and then immediately began devising plans.

I’ve never seen it out in the wild, she thought as she rolled up her sleeves, and it’s been nearly impossible to cultivate in our greenhouses because none of the specimens we gathered had intact roots.

If she squinted just right, the dull brown-green of the roots glinted against the stone, at that moment more beautiful than the bright red of the flower - certainly more precious.

She needed that root - and the flower, of course. To be able to cultivate a more hardy strain of the flower was an opportunity she could not pass up. Unfortunately, the bloom was far up the tower, waving its petals cheerily above a small ledge that was probably attached to some courier’s room. If she’d known who stayed there, she could just lean out the window and carefully harvest it - but she didn’t.

Well, there was nothing for it.

Shirayuki shrugged off her lab coat and folded it before carefully removing her satchel and placing it on top of the coat. She rubbed her hands together to dry them before reaching to the stones just above her shoulder and gripping hard.

She would just have to climb to get it.

With time, the stones of the tower had shifted, leaving grooves between them that, while not enormous, were wide enough that she could slide her feet into them and curl her fingers around the crevasses. She boosted herself with one foot while the other found purchase as her hands cautiously reached for the next viable spot. Once her hands felt secure, she pulled, already feeling beads of sweat dampening the hair behind her ears.

Boost, step, grab, grab, pull.

Shirayuki was slight, but she had built up a fair bit of muscle in her arms from years of repetitive weeding, pruning, and harvesting, not to mention the bags of soil and fertilizer and pails of water she’d had to lug around. Even when Obi was around and doing more than his share, it was a lot of lifting. She should have no trouble climbing a wall.

Boost, step, grab, grab, pull.

Shirayuki gasped to catch her breath, leaning forward to rub her sweating forehead against her sleeve. She looked down to see her progress to bolster her spirits and groaned. She was only about two feet off the ground. How does Obi make this look so easy?

As though he could be summoned by thought alone, Obi’s upside-down face came into view. “Hey, Miss.”

Shirayuki was used to him popping up out of nowhere, so her only reaction was for her hands to twitch in surprise. However, in her tenuous position, that was enough to send her falling backwards. “Ack!”

There was a heart-stopping moment of free fall before she felt a familiar arm across her back and a comfortable warmth bracing against her. Obi grinned down at her, his eyes glinting with mischief and curiosity.

“Falling for me, Miss?”

“Obi!” She laughed, smacking at his arm, “thanks for catching me.”

“I’ll always catch you,” he said, and something about his voice made her breath catch for a moment. He cleared his throat almost awkwardly. “Besides, you wouldn’t have had far to fall even if I wasn’t here.”

She splayed one hand across her face, the heat from her burning cheeks seeping into her fingers. “Oh, wow.”

He arched a brow as he looked down at her and really, it wasn’t fair that he looked so smooth in his knight’s attire, unruffled even after hanging upside down, while she probably looked a proper mess after failing to climb more than two feet. “What were you doing? If you wanted to go climbing, there are several other places I could show you.”

“Oh,” Shirayuki perked up, “that would be nice. But I actually was looking for a plant, not exercise.” She reached upward with a sore arm and pointed at the flower. “See?”

The corner of Obi’s mouth quirked with a grin. “Pretty.”

“It’s not just pretty,” Shirayuki explained, “it’s gloxinia with the roots intact. We’ve been trying to grow it without much luck, but if we have viable roots - “

“Say no more.” Obi said, shucking off his cape and draping it over her satchel. He cracked his knuckles, popped his neck, and then leapt at the tower.

Her breath caught again.

Obi made a striking sight against the stone, climbing like a cat, silent as a shadow. It looked so effortless and easy the way he did it, it was frustrating. And yet, she felt she could spend her time quite happily just watching him move for a while.

Her cheeks burned hotter.

Obi arrived at the right spot far too soon, and without a moment’s hesitation began smoothly and delicately working the roots loose with an ease honed from years squatting beside her in the dirt, lending a hand and learning the tricks of her trade.

“Be careful!” She called out before she could stop herself.

Obi’s laughter floated down from his perch. “Don’t worry, Miss. I’ve been around you long enough to know how to be careful with roots.”

I meant I was worried about you, Shirayuki thought, but didn’t voice out loud. It would just embarrass him.

“Success!” He crowed, waving his prize triumphantly even as he protectively cupped the roots in his palm. Obi released his grip on the wall and landed, light and cat-like, onto the small ledge.

“That’s great, Obi!” Shirayuki called back, beaming.

Later, she would blame several things for what happened next. She had some slight adrenaline threading through her heart from the fall. It had been a late day of work and had started earlier than usual, and her brain felt languid from fatigue. She was elated about going to the lab and showing Ryuu the flower and roots, and maybe going out to celebrate.

All of these things must have had an impact on what happened next, but not as much as the image of Obi silhouetted by the warm reds and yellows of the fading sunset.

“Sunsets suit you, my dashing knight,” she breathed, and then her cheeks flamed again as she fought the urge to cover her mouth.

If it had been anyone else but Obi, she could have sworn he stumbled. When he looked down at her, he gave his usual smirk. “Dashing, Miss?”

“Erm…”

“I’d think more tall, dark, and mysterious.” He remarked downwards. “Dashing is more of a pr-” He coughed and caught himself.

Shirayuki glared up at him. She was only telling the truth. “Obi - you look dashing.”

Obi coughed, and she could have sworn the sunset was giving his cheeks a pinkish tint. “Be careful, Miss - you’ll turn a man’s head.”

Shirayuki knew exactly what spurred on what happened next - her absolute frustration at how Obi, who had made great strides in feelings of self-worth but was not there yet, thought she wasn’t serious. That he continued to not believe he was worth all the true compliments she could give him. “If only it would help you to listen! You are dashing, and clever, and always there for me. I can’t imagine a life without you, and if it takes the rest of my life, I will make you understand me.”

Shirayuki gasped from the exertion, her breaths fogging in front of her. Obi looked gobsmacked.

“Wow,” he coughed, “that was - huh.” He rubbed the back of his head with his free hand.

Shirayuki smiled nervously. “I meant every word.”

“It’s just -” Obi coughed again, “that sounded like a proposal, Miss.”

“Obi…”

“I would’ve thought you would have been the one on the balcony when  -”

“Obi -”

“What would the Master think?”

“Obi!”

He stopped rambling, and she took a deep breath. “Every. Word.”

“Oh.” Obi stood still as a statue for a moment before springing into action. He leapt from the balcony, one hand gripping the banister as he swung over the side. He landed smoothly next to her and held out the plant.

Shirayuki’s breath caught again.

“Miss?”

Shirayuki came back to herself. “Come on,” she exclaimed, grabbing his shirt sleeve and starting to haul him along with her, “we’ve got to show Ryuu!”

As she felt the warmth of his arm against her hand, she was glad he couldn’t see the huge blush on her face.

But if she had looked back, she would have seen he had one, too.

[traditional-with-a-twist]

xvii. Beauty and Her Beast

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

Obi is waiting for her when she returns.

He unfolds like a cat from among the flowers, sauntering over to greet his mistress--and like an animal, he scents at once that something is wrong.

His next step cancels the distance between them. He places himself at her side as he always has, ever since entering the royal service--but this time, things are different.

Enough has changed between them that now, when his hand moves, he allows the movement to follow through to its natural conclusion. 

One fingertip extends, reaches, and comes to rest on her elbow.

...

She turns her face up to his.

“Obi,” she says, but his name sounds like a question.

“Yes,” he answers her simply, unhesitating, even as the vertebrae of his spine lock together, fusing him into one long line of tension.

He keeps his voice light as he adds, in obedience to her wishes, the four syllables long denied to him: “Shirayuki.”

The lines between her eyebrows ease. Her hand makes an absent, seeking gesture; it comes to rest in a loose hold on his sleeve.

...

Shirayuki has never found it easy to voice her concerns.

Even now, though she plans to tell Obi, wants to hear what he thinks, hopes he can reassure her -- she hesitates.

Obi has never found it easy to guess her thoughts, but he’s willing to try if it will help her to put them in words.

“Something amiss at the pharmacy?” he begins, a moderate opening sally in case it won’t take more than a gentle nudge. 

His hand has advanced on its determined path to nearness with her; he cradles her elbow in his palm now.

“Oh--n-no, they’re all doing well--I mean, Yatsufusa…” She bites her lips.

Obi zeroes in on the clue. “Did he say something to you?”

“Yes, but it wasn’t…”

...

She didn’t know quite how to explain it. She didn’t quite understand it.

She hadn’t expected it.

When she burst into the office, hair flying, eyes shining, the message delivered by Higata clutched in her hand, she was half-wild with excitement.

The message was such good news, so long-awaited, too much to keep to herself. She wanted to celebrate, to give thanks, to rejoice with someone who must be equally relieved and delighted that Garrack and Ryuu were coming home.

...

Immediately after the war’s conclusion, the Chief Pharmacist had received orders to suspend her regular duties in deference to the critical conditions overwhelming the hospitals in the port town.

She and her protegee had departed at the head of a wagon train, overseeing the shipment of supplies that Shirayuki, Obi, and all the regular staff had helped prepare.

Official reports with terse updates on their progress provided evidence that they continued alive and well, but no personal correspondence accompanied these missives.

There had been no word of when they would return, until now.

...

Shirayuki was too happy to speak; she only waved the letter and beamed at Yatsufusa.

What words could describe the enormity of her feelings? She has been so alone, so out of place, and now so happy... At last one of the roving thoughts escapes her: 

“They’ll be back in time for the wedding!”

...

Yatsufusa wasn’t a man given to emotional displays. 

He had received the princess with the quiet equanimity typical of his character: Below his perpetually hidden eyes, his mouth creased in a slight sign of the pleasure he shared with her.

At this pronouncement, the smile vanished.

It was true, then.

...

He had wanted to dismiss Higata’s frantic, half-articulate tale as mistaken or at least misapprehending. 

Now there was no choice but to believe it.

Garrack always found a way to foist her work off on him, he reflected. Even from a distance.

...

“Your highness…”

Shirayuki looked quizzical, then a light dawned. Oh, yes. He meant her. She answered with a hesitant smile, looking her question.

Yatsufusa cleared his throat. “With regard to your...wedding…”

She colored prettily.

As gently as he would inspect a wound for infection, he asked whether she had considered what was customary?

Customary, she repeated, wondering.

Yes, customary. Had she considered that, as the bereaved intended of a second prince, she must honor the Wisteria royal family in her choice of a future husband?

...

The message vanished into folds of white as Shirayuki’s hands wound into her skirts. “Honor?” she repeated faintly.

“Honor...or dishonor.” Yatsufusa felt the cruelty of his task, but he set to it as he would set a bone.

“It would be--more correct, for you to marry someone of noble lineage, your highness.”

...

Shirayuki was not a politically-minded person. 

Before she met Zen, her thinking rarely bothered with questions beyond her intimate circle, what concerned the people she knew personally, and those challenges and dangers that immediately involved their lives. 

Befriending a prince had necessarily changed that. 

Now the problems impacting her friends were problems of state: dilemmas and dangers that convened councils and kept kings awake at night.

In some curious way, Shirayuki hadn’t felt the difference. For Kihal and the Yuris Island birds, for instance, she had diagnosed and prescribed a solution the same way she would have treated a patient.

The diplomatic implications added different dimensions, rendered the occasion more solemn, but otherwise affected not at all her desire to help, or her determination to make things right.

...

The problem confronting her now cast long shadows in Shirayuki’s mind, precisely because of the political terms with which Yatsufusa had framed it. 

An obscure implication of duty now jutted from the mists to threaten her bid for a safe harbor. None of her mental maps--all drawn on the scale of human relationships--could afford her any guidance.

She didn’t know what to do.

...

Uncertainty chills rapidly into fear, for someone accustomed to operating with a driving sense of purpose.

By the time Shirayuki reached Obi, her stomach felt tight, her throat closed. Her skirts weighed on her, though she had worn them lightly just an hour before.

As she recounted the story, her head had sunk lower and lower; now she confesses to her shoes: “I never thought about it that way before.”

...

A snort startles her. Her head jerks up.

Obi’s eyes crinkle. “A noble family, huh? That’s the problem?”

Shirayuki blinks at him, bemused. “I...think so?”

...

Interwoven with her doubts about the future lurked a nervousness verging on panic that something in what she had said might prove harmful for Obi. 

She flinched at the thought of handing him a bundle spiked with invisible needles, something that might cut into him before she realized what was wrong.

He didn’t look as if he were in pain, though. If anything, he looked amused.

...

“I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you,” Obi says airily. He looks past her, so tall and so near that she can’t see into his eyes.

“But will there be trouble if--if we… I mean…” Her fingers tightened on his sleeve. “What can we…”

“Sorry, mi--Shirayuki. There’s nothing we can do about my birth.” 

Obi barks a laugh. “If someone has a problem with that, he’ll have to complain to the people responsible for it.”

His palm slides up her arm, his thumb tracing a soothing circle against her shoulder.

Shirayuki smiled uncertainly. Fear lost its grip in the face of this levity, but instead she was baffled. What was so funny?

Why was he laughing?

[obsidiancorner]

ObiYuki Madness Championship- Really Royalty Reveal

Remember the line art I posted for the semifinals? this is the story that was supposed to go with it. Good luck and enjoy! 

Ghosts Of History Past

~5800 words

TW: minor injury to major character (no blood but bones are gross too) and discussion of deaths. Read with caution, my friends. 

“We’re almost there. Just hang on,” Obi yelled over his shoulder as he pressed his heels into Whinny's sides, urging the young mare to dig deep for more speed.

Shirayuki fisted her hands tighter in Obi's black undershirt, pulling him closer for more stability. Falling off the horse at break-neck pace was out of the question. She had exhausted her medical supplies helping a seaside village near the Tanbarun border, about a week’s ride away from Port Town, Tanbarun. If she or Obi were injured beyond something simple, there'd be no help until they could reach home, or at least another village.

Obi’s sturdy, weatherproofed uniform coat was wrapped around her, warming her against the cool rain. Obi, being every bit the valiant knight that he pretended not to be, had insisted she wear it when they stopped briefly to let their horse drink from a small stream. Care for their faithful steed and ensuring Shirayuki stayed healthy were the only concessions Obi had been willing to make as they tried, and failed, to outrun the squall that had whipped up out of nowhere, as they so often did this close to the coast.

The original plan had been to leave after lunch and travel along the coast, where various port towns could offer comfortable lodgings, good food, and proper horse care, before making a brief stop at Yuris Island to see Kihal. They were expected in another town along the coast in several hours.

Nature- and perhaps fate, it seemed, had other plans.

Not only had they left later than intended because they wanted to find a souvenir for Ryuu, but they had barely been traveling for two hours when the first rumbles of thunder echoed overhead. Not long after, the deafening roar of a downpour caught up to them, rolling in fast and hard overhead.

Hours from the nearest oceanside town, Obi tensed under her hands where she held onto him before making a decision to spirit them further inland. Whatever decision he had made, he hadn't liked it.

“I know a place,” he had said. But, of course he knew a place. He always knew a place. The man she desperately clung to was nothing if not steadfast. Reliable in any situation and all too often self-sacrificial to a fault.

Rain pelted them in sheets, obscuring the path ahead. How Obi, or Whinny for that matter, could see where they were going was beyond Shirayuki's comprehension. She just squinted her eyes closed and pulled herself closer to Obi

The rain, getting colder as the minutes rolled on, stung her eyes and she blinked rapidly in a useless attempt to keep them clear. Even the hood she always wore while traveling was no help against the wind and rain.

Obi and their horse had no protection whatsoever. It pained her, aching deep in her chest, that Obi would go without his coat just so she could be more comfortable. She knew he’d never listen if she told him she didn’t want him put out because of her because that was just Obi. Poor Whinny, though. She was probably wondering what she had done to deserve such punishment.

“How much further, Obi?” She sputtered as a particularly nasty burst of wind dislodged a slew of water from the overlapping canopy of tree branches overhead.

“You'll be dry and warm soon enough, Miss,” Obi tried to joke but tension and weariness threatened to break his voice. He hid it well, granted. He was a brilliant actor when he needed to be but the hitch in his voice right before he called her, ‘Miss,’ belied how unsure he was.

That would have been an interesting topic to entertain: he knew a place but wasn’t sure about something. What was it that had him questioning his decision? However, the more pressing matter was the lightning around them, escalating in frequency as the storm grew more volatile.

Five eternal minutes later, an almost sinister looking building appeared before them- an ink black silhouette against the dark slate backdrop of storm clouds. Heaven and stars, the building looked like it belonged in one of the scary stories Obi always told around the campfire.

From a distance out, it looked ominous. As they approached, it's shape truly took form, like a mutating monster from a child's nightmare deciding what form would be most terrifying.

Shirayuki sucked in a sharp breath. She trusted Obi with her life. She really did. He'd proven himself more than deserving of that trust on more than one occasion. But Shirayuki couldn't help but worry about this place he was taking her.

Why was it so dark? How did he know about it? Why did he take her somewhere he, himself, had obviously not wanted to go? What happened here?

It was a chalet of sorts with stonework walls, charred black as night from a hot-burning fire long since dead. At least the question of why it was so dark had been answered, though it only added to the uneasy feeling settling deep in Shirayuki's bones.

Grotesque gargoyles with ravenous snarls loomed in protective stances above the door and placed intermittently on the roof. A covered wooden porch was mostly obliterated, with only a small platform left standing under the door itself. Large support beams and sections of roof lay splintered on footboards that had caved in or turned to ash from the heat of the blaze that had marred the building beyond repair.

Arrow-slit windows were interspersed with stained glass windows, but most of them were blown out. The guard towers on all four corners were barely recognizable as part of the structures defense. Obi had brought them to a certifiable fortress, albeit a fortress that also boasted comfortable living for a prominent noble family, but a fortress nonetheless. But what happened that such a defense-ready building had been this far decimated?

“Obi?”

Shirayuki's voice was a mere whisper, a hesitant question. The last thing she wanted was to question him and make him feel as though she didn't trust his judgment, especially when he had her best interest in mind, but if any building in all of Clarines was hiding ghosts, it would be this place.

He never even flinched, as usual. He just kicked his right leg over the exhausted horse's drooping neck and slid down her side before turning around to begin the hasty work of freeing their bags.

A bright streak of light, piercing through the darkness that had settled in around them as night encroached further, was nearly blinding. A tree nearby had been struck, if the evidence of a crackling sound and subsequent crash of branches hitting the ground was to be believed. The roaring clap of thunder answering the lightning's beckon call was immediate this close to the strike.

Whinny, bless her, remained resolute despite the storm picking up intensity around them. She didn't so much as twitch as Obi pulled their packs from her back and dropped them unceremoniously on the muddy ground beside them.

“It's okay, Miss. It isn't much to look at, but the building is still sound. You will be safe,” Obi finally replied as he turned to pull her down from Whinny's back. He was smiling, but it was forced.

Hands steadying her hips, he helped her drop safely to the ground. In a swift motion, he had bent down and collected their saddlebags from the muck, slinging them over his shoulder and sending muddy drops scattering through the air.

She reached out for his sleeve but met his fingers instead. He had been reaching back for her as she reached for him. Shirayuki stared dumbly at the place where their fingers met as she slowly wound her hand into his and laced their fingers tightly together.

Something about this Manor ate at her- a nagging warning in the back of her mind, fuzzy and indiscernible but undeniably present. She used the warmth and pressure of her palm and fingers cradled in his to ground her in the promise of safety that Obi always provided.

Obi turned to look at her with an apologetic smile. “We will get you inside and dry so you can warm up,” he offered as they began picking their way over the remnants of the porch.

The door was unlocked, knob twisting easily, but years of weather and neglect had it stuck on its hinges. Obi struggled with it for a moment before deciding to ram his shoulder into it to dislodge it…. Twice.  

To his credit, he managed to keep a straight face, but it was impossible to fool a pharmacist who just heard the distinct pop of the ball joint of a shoulder shifting out of place.

That would need to be fixed and sooner rather than later. The last thing they needed was added injury if the muscles around his shoulder seized too much. It’d be spasming now but after that it would become stiff. That’s when putting it back in place was the most risky. She could break his arm trying to put his shoulder back together.  

The satisfied smirk he flashed her warmed her slightly, though she knew he would be feeling that dislocation soon enough. His range of motion would be nearly gone and Whinny needed tended to.

“There's a barn out back. I'm going to tuck Whinny in for the night,” Obi said, as he ushered Shirayuki through the threshold of the finally open door. He gingerly plucked the packs from his busted shoulder before dropping them carelessly to the floor with a thick squelch.

He was out the door, silent as a mouse, before Shirayuki could even turn to face him. She had wanted to look at his shoulder immediately but he was already gone so she focused her attention on the dilapidated Lord's Manor they we're officially squatting in for the night.

Once-proud twin staircases curved beautifully up to the second floor. Well, the curve itself was beautiful, graceful. The stairs themselves were crumbling away. The fire had apparently left little of the house unharmed. Char marks marred the wood and the gilding was soot-stained. Nearly everything was covered in a thick layer of ash.

Most of the lavish grand reception hall was stained from the thick black smoke that lingers after a fire. It was tragic what had happened to this place. Even looking more defensible than a royal palace, this place would have been stunning back in its day.

Opulent work always on display in noble houses was lost here. How many skilled Craftsmen had their hard work lost to time because of whatever wickedness had obviously transpired here? Fires that burn hot enough to do this were never accidental.

To her left was the standard cloakroom used for guests when the noble family entertained large parties. The door was broken at the bottom and knocked off its hinges as though someone had burst into the room. The thought made her shiver. What cause would they have for breaking into a room that's sole purpose was to hold coats?  

It only took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the minimal light but the more her eyes adjusted, the worse the scene before her became.

A large- too large- dark brown stain covered the tattered remnants of what had once been a light colored rug. With the state of the house- upturned furniture, ransacked cloak closets, and a systematic path of destruction as far as she could see- it was likely the stain on the carpet was human blood.

Obi said he knew this place. Had it been a hit he had executed, very literally, in his time as an assassin?

Shirayuki's stomach churned violently at the very thought. She had never had to entertain the idea of him being a trained murderer-for-hire. Not even when Haruka had hired him to scare her away from Zen. The concept was so far removed from the man she knew so well, the man she lived with, worked with, and had snowball fights with. It wasn’t Obi.

Shirayuki pushed down on the thought. It would likely break Obi's heart if he knew she had thought such things, especially if there was some other explanation for how he knew of this place.  

Moving further in would require her to walk under the unstable looking double staircase and also walk in close proximity to the blood stain that was entirely too much blood loss for even two fully grown adults to survive.

She searched desperately for something less grim to preoccupy her thoughts. To her right, she found a hall with a door. She peaked in to find a smaller cloak closet. A closed door at the far end of the hall, obscured from the view of the front door by a wall, appeared to be her best option.

Like the stairs, it was burned horribly but, unlike the ominous cloak closet off the main reception hall, it was intact on relatively undamaged hinges. Rusted with age, but otherwise what one would expect to see.

She tested the handle, her nerves threatening to get the better of her the further it turned. It moved easily under her touch until the soft click of the latch releasing reverberated far too loudly in the otherwise deathly silent cavernous manor.

Pushing through the door, she was met with a room almost untouched by the damage. Shirayuki sent a quick prayer of thanks up to the stars above. She was willing to take any reprieve from the ghastly tale being told by the rest of the house- or what remained of it, anyway

Thick layers of dust and grime from years of neglect littered everything from the furniture and floor, to the paintings lining the walls. The curving arms of the chandelier in the center of the room, modest for a house this size, was heavy with cobwebs. The crystals that dangled from it were too caked in muck to shine even when lightning arced through the sky outside.

White couches, yellowed with age, sat under the chandelier with an impressively carved mahogany table between them. Small tables matching the coffee table and armchairs matching the sofas were interspersed between gargantuan bookshelves rivaling the beauty and size of those found in the Lyrias research facilities.

A large fireplace in the middle of the long inner wall caught her attention. It was carved similarly to the table, an intricate knotwork pattern ran up the sides and the gilding was only lightly tarnished. The marble mantle held standing display cases housing weaponry that had become defunct with the progression of time and technology.

Shirayuki moved through the room, wanting to take in everything about this one sheltered haven amongst destruction but feared disturbing anything. Passing by the couches to the front of the fireplace, she pulled off Obi's coat as well as her own and splayed them across the floor to aid the drying process if they could manage to get a fire going.

At the furthest end of the library stood a desk, about the size and worth of Zen’s desk back in Wistal Castle but the painting behind it was the focal point of the room, at least from the perspective of walking through the door.

The lack of light from the storm still raging outside had made it impossible to see from the door. Even half way through the room, she could barely make it out.

The gold frame was even more intricately carved than the mantle or table but the family staring at her stole the very breath from her lungs.

She inched closer, staring into the faces of a beautiful, young noble couple- likely no older than she and Obi were now, their toddler son, and a baby girl. Shirayuki was utterly entranced.

Both parents were smiling broadly, dressed in everyday finery- a lavish concept speaking of their wealth since most of even the noble class didn't spend the extra money for painting commissions where they weren't dressed in attire fit to be in the presence of the king himself.

Most striking, though, were the yellow eyes, olive skin, and dark hair shared by the mother and son.

The urge to touch was overwhelming, pulsing in her fingertips until she could no longer resist. She brushed away the grit and grime covering the toddler boy’s face, allowing the colors to come through more vibrantly. The faces felt familiar to her but Shirayuki was terrified of the implication that she was beginning to piece together a scenario so much worse than this being a hit Obi had been ordered to take out.

With the same delicate touch as she used on the doorknob earlier, she traced the apple of a puffy cheek of the young boy. His hair was longer than it potentially was now, similar in length but more smoothed down than the style Ryuu still wore to this day.

But those eyes.

She knew those eyes.

She knew them well.

They were piercing sharp, even at an age of no more than four. He appeared attentive and bright, if annoyed. Understandable, considering he was so young and standing still for a portrait was likely a boring task- especially for someone so inclined to movement, if it truly was him she was looking at.

She turned her gaze upward to the woman, but her hand remained on the cheek of the boy. Her eyes matched his exactly in shape, size, and clarity. Too smart and far too brave for their own good.

“Leave it to you to find the library when you've been left alone for a few minutes,” Obi teased, his breath tickling her ear.

Shirayuki dropped her hand as though she had been caught snooping where she didn't belong. Preoccupied as she was, she hadn't noticed him come up behind her. It had been a long time since he had been able to startled her. She could usually feel the air shift as he approached. The man had an aura around him as loud and boisterous as his personality, provided he let someone close enough to learn it.

His assessment wasn't wrong either. If there was one thing she was good for, it was sussing out a breathtaking library. But there were more important matters at hand now that he was back from tending to Whinny.

“Let me see that shoulder,” she said, turning her face to him.

How had he gotten so close without her noticing? At least he was looking ahead at the painting that she had been touching.

Her face heated when she realized they were close enough she could kiss his cheek if she leaned in an inch. He seemed to notice their proximity as well and moved back a step, giving her the more modest space she needed.

“Shoulder,” she prompted again, pointing to the injury as she turned to face him fully.  

Obi gestured with an open, sweeping hand toward the couches before leading her there with a soft grasp of her wrist. The touch was tender as though he was holding a butterfly he didn't want to accidentally crush.

She sat and waited quietly as he padded over to the fireplace, lost to shadows until lightning lit up the sky again. A stark reminder of just how inhuman his ability to see almost perfectly in the dark could feel at times.

A small amount of firewood was still tucked into a neat pile off to the side. Clearly she had missed it in her initial perusal of the room's distinguishing features. Shirayuki heard Obi stacking the logs but the striking of a match was obvious. Slowly, the room filled with the yellow-orange glow of a healthy flame as more and more wood caught.

Obi perched himself next to her, busted shoulder closest to her. Shirayuki began the long task of working her fingers and thumbs into the muscles of his upper arm and shoulder.

He sucked in a sharp breath and she halted.

“Did that hurt you,” she whispered, pulling her hands back an inch.

“No, Miss,” Obi laughed, though it sounded tense to Shirayuki. “I just wasn't expecting a massage.”

Shirayuki hummed in response before setting her hands back in motion. She following the long, lean lines of his muscles with small circular movements.

“I want your muscles to relax enough to allow your arm to pop itself back into place.” She continued drawing circles into muscle, only using enough pressure to slowly coax the muscles to release.

Actual massage-level pressure would likely do more harm than good, she knew. But she was unqualified, with limited light and limited resources, to use either of the more dangerous methods of forcing the ball joint of the arm back into the socket of the shoulder.

In the pharmacy, she could do it without batting an eye. Here, in the middle of a torrential downpour with night already upon them, there was no chance to leave this evening. The best chance Obi had of not risking further injury was to simply relax so his body could do the dirty work for both of them. If something went wrong, there was no medical backup out here, nor would there likely be any found nearby.

She needed to get his mind off the pain if he was going to relax and the silence had already stretched on too long, so she began talking. A distraction usually helped. “How's Whinny?”

“Annoyed with me,” he said, laughing lightly. “I gave her a few apples and the oats that were meant to be our breakfast. We will need to restock. And I gave her a quick brush after I untacked her.”

“How did you manage to get her saddle off with this arm banged up the way it is,” she asked.

Ignoring her question, he chose a different topic, which likely meant she would disapprove of how he had handled the situation but he was already hurting, no sense in badgering him about it.

“The barn is still sturdy and a little more uphill than the house, so flooding isn't-” he broke off with a hiss as a pop echoed in the room.

“Done,” Shirayuki said, relief making her sound more cheerful than she actually felt. “Touch your opposite shoulder with the hand on your dislocated arm, please.”

He side-eyed her questioningly, but acquiesced, slowly lifting his hand to grasp the shoulder he usually massaged when nervous.

“Excellent,” Shirayuki beamed. “Fixed. A dislocated shoulder won't allow that motion, she said, tearing a section of her skirts away.

He left his arm there to rub at the shoulder. He uncomfortable.

“Miss, I hardly think fixing a dislocated shoulder requires you to tear your clothes off,” Obi joked, dropping his voice to a lower range. It was gravely and seductive, the voice he always used to get a rise out of her.

A flush worked its way up her cheeks, as it always did when he used that raspy growl voice. “I need to make a sling,” she said, voice too quiet to be inconspicuous. She continued to work, adjusting and re-adjusting the fabric until his shoulder was appropriately supported.

“You should wear the sling for a few weeks but I know you better than to assume you'll follow that advice.” She said, relaxing back to admire her handiwork. Pretty good for minimal equipment. “Just try to keep it on for the night. Possibly tomorrow as well, depending on how persistent the storm intends to be.”

Obi leaned back, laying back on the seat of the couch and stretching out as much as he could with her by his legs.

Shirayuki stood and moved to where his head was, not quite reaching the arm to be able to use it as a pillow. She could feel his eyes following her, a silent question as to what she was doing.

He lifted his head and shoulders so she could sit. Once she was settled, he laid back slowly so his head rested in her lap. He turned onto his side carefully to avoid jostling his arm too much.

A long, heavy silence fell between them as they watched and listened as the fire danced and crackled in front of them. The warmth, finally permeating the room, began to wash away the remaining cold in Shirayuki’s bones.

“Obi,” Shirayuki chanced, voice quiet with hesitation. “Where are we, exactly?” She asked as she ran her fingers along his scalp, scratching lightly.

Lyrias evenings had seen this position enough for her to know he liked his head massaged. The only thing they were missing was Ryuu working late at the desk in Shirayuki's rooms and Suzu and Yuzuri teasing each other while they debated something that had no impact on anything except their own personal pride.

She smiled at the thought. They'd be home soon, weather permitting. She missed their friends and they'd been gone from Lyrias for so long already.

“The grounds of a nobleman unfortunate enough to have been found with his hands in too many of the wrong people's cookie jars,” Obi supplied quietly. Not an actual explanation but it was certainly informative.

He looked peaceful, face relaxed and eyes closed, but there was a shadow lurking under his words. She recognized it as a past trauma. Old enough that he probably wouldn't even recognize it as such, let alone admit to it having an impact on him.  

“What happened here,” she wondered out loud. It was more out of her own thoughts than expecting of an answer. She startled when he actually supplied one.

Two words. Cut straight through her. A young, smiling couple. Two beautiful children. A charred and broken home. Blood stains.

“A coup.”

He said it so evenly, so matter-of-fact. But he knew the place well. And those eyes. She was right in her assessment. She had to be. The pieces fit together perfectly, like a morbid puzzle.

“Obi?”

“Yes, miss,” he responded, sounding sleepy but still nearly purring as she continued her ministrations on his scalp.

A pang of hurt and regret surged through her at the question she could feel pushing it's way up. She didn't want to continue pressing him for knowledge he obviously held but she needed to know if she was right.  

“The woman's eyes, Obi.”

His eyes opened slowly. Regret, sadness, and some other untraceable emotion simmered in the depths of molten amber as they shifted in the light of the fire. He was beautiful in the firelight, painted in a yellow glow that made every curve of his cheeks and strong lines of his jaw both softer and sharper at once. It suited him.

He was soft with her but had sharp edges that showed when he felt Shirayuki was being threatened. He was her snuggle partner on frigid Lyrias nights, a man she knew would keep her safe at any cost. But he was a hardened killer as well, a once-assassin turned military-man who rose from nothing to a knight of the highest caliber.

He let out a long, almost broken sigh. A suffering sound that served to worsen the feeling of sickness making her stomach churn. Guilt would be her bedfellow this evening. She shouldn't have pried. It was unfair to Obi and he'd done nothing to deserve such abismal treatment from someone he calls a friend.

“I know... I have my mom's eyes,” he turned to look at her then. His face was placid, like the horrors that had obviously happened here hadn't been part of his past, a history he had hidden from everyone.

She didn't fault him for keeping the secret but she was filled with an urge to know more. It was rare to have even a glimpse into Obi's life before he came to Wistal. Learning this much at one time was unheard of.

He continued to watch her as she shifted her hand to trace her fingers over his face, much in the same way she had touched the face of the young boy in the painting- his face in the painting.  

She ran her thumb along the bone of his cheek and his eyes closed in a slow blink. “Do you,” she started, but cut off with a quick inhale, second-guessing whether or not to press on. The curious learner inside her mind won out and she pressed on, “Do you want to talk about it?”

She was intrigued and talking it out sometimes helped but she was only willing to learn what he was willing to tell. She opened the door of conversation for him, it was up to him whether he wanted to walk through it or not.

He sighed heavily, breath blowing her hair softly. “No, not really. But, for you, I will.”

He smiled, weak and exhausted, like the emotional lifting of this much baggage was too daunting to even think about, let alone unpack. He turned fully, so he was laying on his back looking up at her. He tucked her hair behind her ear with the hand of his good arm.

“My father was a good father from what I can remember. But he wasn't a good man.”

Shirayuki dragged her fingers up from his cheek and back through his hair so she was working his scalp again. She would give him time and what comforts she could manage for him if that's what he needed.

“He was involved with bad people. He stockpiled wealth but he was always willing to step on the little guy to do it. He was unjust too those he ruled over and was expected to protect. Eventually, they got tired of it.”

Before she could stop herself, her fingers fisted in the short bristles of his hair and she pulled herself down to him. She placed a soft kiss to his forehead and lingered there a second or two longer than could be considered just friendly or supportive.

Her eyes pulsed wide when she realized what she'd done and she sat back up, spine ramrod straight and heart hammering faster than Whinny’s hoofbeats as she had sprinted to get them all to safety. She flushed a far deeper shade of pink than she had in a long time and her face felt hot enough to combust. At least there would be more light to see with if she did.

Obi, for his part, seemed equally surprised. It may have been a trick of the firelight, but it seemed as though his cheeks were bordering on rosy as well. Instead of pressing her for an answer as to what had just transpired between them, he broke the silence by continuing on with his tale even though it was probably difficult for him. As expressive as Obi was, he was also quite adept at hiding emotions.

“The people of the land revolted under the leadership of the more distasteful business partners my father had. They stormed the house… I don't really remember all that much. My mother and sister were executed first. I remember that. They had hid in the secret room off the cloak closet in the hall with me. My sister cried and they found us. Father and I were forced to watch. Then they killed my father. I was taken.”

His eyes were far away. He was physically here in his childhood home, but his mind was trapped in the time of a memory over two decades old.

He didn't have to continue. She knew enough to guess the rest.

This was how he became a child of the underground. An orphan doomed to be forgotten and used as a tool to help others further their own nefarious plans. A vicious cycle with no real winner coming out on top.

“What better way to insult a nobleman, really? You keep his son alive and force him into a life of servitude, carrying out tasks similar to what the noble himself had used others for.”

He was so nonchalant about what had happened. Sure, years upon years between then and now had probably softened the edges of the trauma but it was amazing how removed he had become from it. He could have been telling the story of someone else's family for how detached from it he appeared. Probably some sort of survival mechanism.

The thought of a boy, lost in the turbulent seas of circumstance. Innocence sucked into a life in the shadiness of the criminal underworld.

Obi was a good man. One who deserved so much more and so much better than he had received. He was loyal, loving, smart, and always amazing. He deserved to have the world laid out at his feet not ripped out from under him. Especially as a child that young.

A small drop of water appeared on his cheek, forcing Shirayuki to realize she was crying but also pulling him back to the present.

A place where he was safe. Loved. Cherished deeply by those around him.

His eyes shifted visibly, working their way through time to return himself to the present. A place where he was loved and laying in the lap of his best friend.

He ran the thumb of his only free hand along each of her cheeks, drying the salty tears. “It was a long time ago, Miss. Only a few months after that painting was made, I think. I barely remember it.”

A lie. His first real lie to her. He joked but never lied. He remembered it well enough and she knew it. The fact that he was willing to lie to cover up the hurt broke open the dam and the tears cascaded over the rim of her eyelashes in force.

“But you were so young,” Shirayuki choked out over several sobs. “No child deserves that. What your father did wasn't your fault.”

“Fault is irrelevant when political machinations are concerned. You know that as well as I, Miss.” Despite the heaviness in the air around them, he appeared lighter, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“I have no regrets and I do not wonder what my life would have been.” Shirayuki kept her eyes closed as he talked- not that she could have said when it was she had closed them- but his voice was stronger, filled with an edge of unquestionable conviction.

“That path that was chosen for me when I was barely old enough to talk was the path that led me here. It's the path that led me to you.”

[sabraeal]

Hi Jen

It is a odd day that catches Shirayuki reading at her bench instead of the library, but today Ryu had arrived with three oil-wrapped parcels under his arm, staggering under the weight, and informed them that under pain of death, they were to never mention that these left the librarian’s keeping. She could only hope that the woman knew he had taken him; though it wasn’t in Ryu’s character to charm or swindle, it seemed more likely that his sweet face and round eyes had helped the books escape the library’s walls, rather than him taking it upon himself to spirit them out.

Then again, it wouldn’t be beyond the realm of possibility for him to have learned both. Obi was only too eager to pass on his skills to his Little Ryu.

Suzu had lasted an hour before complaining of stiff legs and aching back – I’m an old man! he’d cried under their stares, and Shirayuki only answered, You’re twenty-four – but both her and Ryu had taken the charge seriously. He was deep into seed priming, his text rich with detailed diagrams of germinating bulbs.

Hers was a denser tome, hidden deep in the geology section, and reading it was less research and more a search for a needle in a haystack. She would catch a glimpse of their quarry at times – as the esteemed Paleus called it, the glimmering stone – but mostly it was a slog through an analytical text of a field not her own.

Her head bobs dangerous as she scanned a page, eyes heavy, and it doesn’t seem so bad to rest them for a moment, just to keep the letters from changing partners as she stares at them –

Thunk.

Shirayuki bolts upright, turning guiltily to meet Ryu’s stern gaze, but – but instead she meets a cocked hip, a strong hand hooked around it. Her chin tilts up and up and up, not stopping until she meets an amused set of amber eyes.

“Why, Miss,” he drawls, lips curving into a smirk. “Did I catch you lazing on the job?”

She sends a worried glance over her shoulder, but Ryu’s still buried deep in his research, mouth forming words on the page. She’d be surprised if he’d greeted Obi beyond an acknowledging grunt.

“Ah,” she sighs, stretching over the back of her chair with a cleansing yawn. “Not yet.”

He doesn’t speak, but the quirk of his narrow brow unearths a thousand words, all of them teasing.

Swallowing down a grin, she turns back to her bench. “Anyway, what brings you here?”

He brings his other hand to his hip, chest puffed out proudly. “I brought you something!”

With an owlish blink, she drags her gaze off his pleased face, down to where a clay pot perches on her bench. It’s sizeable, but only a small chute – perhaps the size and width of her thumb – pokes up from the soil.

Her chair scrapes back as she stands, bending over to get a better look. “What is it?”

“A house-warming gift!” His smile takes an impish bent, and she knows he’s being purposefully obtuse. “I found it on Pavillion Street, a little spring of green in all the snow. It reminded me of you.”

She wishes she had Obi’s heart, if only so that she could say such beautiful things to him as well. She was too pragmatic, too clinical; when she tried to tell him softer things, things that drew close to how much he meant to her, it came out flat, rehearsed and awkward – you said you’ll take me to the market next time, or it feels as though you might suddenly appear at Lyrias.

“I see,” she says, since words have abandoned her. “It’s some kind of…orchid?”

She’d have to look in her books to see which one; they were hard to grow, and although much of their remedies were potent, they never produced enough for a large batch. Next to useless in a pharmacy; she hadn’t bothered to learn more than a few.

“It is,” he agrees, lips slanting in his signature grin.

“You know what it is.” It’s not a question. She knows that tone of his anywhere.

“I do.”

She puffs out her cheeks. “But you won’t tell me.”

He leans over, thumb tracing over its single leaf. “It’s supposed to take six more years to flower.”

She’d accuse him of dodging her question, but she knows all too well this is his answer. “We’d be back in Wistal. A few years, by that point.”

“I wonder…” His shoulders lift, a lazy shrug. “It might make a nice surprise, wherever we are.”

Shirayuki stares at the sprout, lip caught between her teeth. She’s not one for surprises; she’s always prefered having answers, having a plan, but…

But there are worse things, than a mystery flower.

“All right.” She wraps her arms around the pot, but Obi snatches it up before she can lift it.

“What are you doing?” he asks, eyes wide and more than a little wild.

“Ah, I only…” She lets out a breath, laying a hand on his arm. “I thought I should bring it back to my dormitory. After all,” she says, a little shy, “it’s a secret for me, isn’t it?”

Obi’s mouth parts into a wide, almost doggish smile. “Of course, Miss.” He jerks his head toward the door. “Come on, we better get a move on before Suzu gets back. He’ll probably ruin the whole thing.”

She giggles. “I promise, I won’t let anyone see it first without swearing them to secrecy.”

His eyes slant toward her. “But you will show it off, right?”

“Oh, of course.” She leans her head gently against his arm, filled with fondness. “After all, it’s a lovely gift.”