#obiyuki madness 2022 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kirayaykimura · 2 years

Text

For Obiyuki Madness 2022 - Fake Relationship

Meetings were not Obi’s favorite. He’d much prefer getting an assignment and then, you know, doing it, but for some reason the sorts of people who hired him tended to want to go on and on about their nefarious plans. Some of them seemed to revel in what they were doing, but a good chunk of people, Obi suspected, used their monologue time to justify their actions. I’m not a bad person. Really. I just need to know if my wife is faithful. Or, they stole from me first, so, really, having you rob them makes us even, right? The claim that sending Obi in to break up young love for the good of the kingdom was pretty unique, he’d give Haruka that. People’s delusions weren’t usually so grandiose as to involve a whole country.

“Sure, sure,” Obi said. He stretched his arms above his head languidly and glanced around the small, sparse office. It was just Obi, Haruka, and a desk with an unnatural amount of paperwork on it. Either Haruka was overworked or terrible at his job. Obi hopped up from his seat and began pacing the frankly claustrophobically short length of the office, ready to hop out the window the second it looked like he could get away with it.

“I’m serious,” Haruka said. “This is a matter of utmost national security and I am-“ he sighed, “-entrusting you to see to it.”

“Yeah, I got all that. Though I must say, she doesn’t strike me as the take-down-the-palace type of seductress you painted her to be when you hired me.”

She hadn’t been wearing anything low-cut or revealing, hadn’t done anything with that already eye-catching hair that would make it even more alluring. Instead of screaming out in fear and playing the damsel in distress at his arrow trick, she’d just torn it out of the wall and gone about her day. Either she was playing a game he’d never encountered before or Haruka was dead wrong about her. He couldn’t decide which of those he hoped for.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re trying all that hard,” Haruka said, accusation clear in his voice.

“She’s really not that easy to scare off.”

“Maybe I should hire someone else to take care of it.”

Obi snorted. “Good luck.”

Eyes skeptical, Harkua asked, “You’re not starting to fall for her, are you? Because it’s been something of an epidemic around here. People can’t seem to get enough of the girl.” He muttered, “That’s what makes her so dangerous.”

Definitely delusional. Probably sexist. Maybe a little reluctant attraction to the girl thrown in to the mix? Obi so wished his assignments could just be robbing or killing people instead of spending half (sometimes most) of his time smoothing out ruffled feathers.

“Not a problem,” Obi said. “I am in no danger of falling for her.”

That promise was apparently not enough to sate Haruka, who looked anything but convinced. A simple promise that Obi didn’t think he was capable of falling in love with anyone at all probably wasn’t going to cut it, either, so he said, “I’m already seeing someone.” Because why not? He hadn’t lied for no reason in a while. He could do with a little extra spice on this job.

Haruka raised a dubious eyebrow.

“Yep. She, uh-“ He heard someone walking by just outside the door and marveled at his own good luck. It honestly didn’t matter who was in the hall, he just needed a warm body to stand still and look pretty for a minute. Sure, it would help if they followed his lead, but a part of him hoped they didn’t. It would only add to the challenge.

“That must be her now,” Obi said, cracking the door ajar just wide enough to reach a hand out. “I asked her to stop by. A little lover’s tryst after our meeting. You know how it is.”

After a fumbling moment of feeling around, his fingers finally snagged on cloth instead of empty air. The cap of a sleeve if he wasn’t mistaken. Silently thankful he hadn’t accidentally grabbed something untoward, he gently tugged on the probably-sleeve to lead them inside Haruka’s office and said, “Perfect timing, dear. I was just talking about-” Obi trailed off when he caught his first glimpse of wide, green eyes and bright red hair, “-you.” He gave a weak laugh to punctuate his sentence. Well, that was what he got for wishing for a challenge.

A very stunned and awkward silence fell over the room. Obi fought the urge to laugh at what a terrible situation he’d willingly just placed himself in. Haruka was clearly blanking on how to explain the situation Obi had just placed them in. Shirayuki - the girl - was just confused.

Shirayuki was the first to break the silence when she blinked up at Obi and said, “Hello. Can I help you?”

She had the sweetheart act nailed, he’d give her that. Then, curiously, she turned to greet Haruka and he watched as her expression shifted from politely confused to something slightly closer to the steel he’d seen when he’d shot that warning message at her earlier.

“Lord Haruka,” she greeted, like it was taking all she had just to stay civil.

“Miss Shirayuki,” Haruka said much in the same way.

Such delightfully awkward tension. Well, he’d caused it; he should probably take care of it soon before Haruka passed out or Shirayuki simply left the room. Which would be bad because the longer she stood there, the more Obi solidified a very wild plan.

“Darling,” Obi said, stepping in close to her. She leaned back slightly but held her ground, and he took that as a go-ahead and said, “I was just telling Haruka how I was courting you, but he didn’t seem to believe me.” As he threw a casual arm around her shoulders, he pulled her in close to his side and whispered low in her ear, “Just go with it.”

She tensed at the feeling, but not in the surprised, ready to shiver pleasantly at the feel of his whisper type of way. He immediately lifted his hand off her shoulder, mentally preparing for her tell on him. Oh well. The plan was a long shot anyway.

The moment his palm left her shoulder, though, she gave him a curious look that made him pause. She gave Haruka a look that he couldn’t quite read and made him curious, then said, “I should hope he’s courting me.”

There was a beat of stunned silence before Obi was awash in pure delight. This girl was fun.

“So there you go,” Obi said, turning his attention back to Haruka. He kept his hand hovering above her arm, not quite touching, though. She really did seem uncomfortable at the physical closeness. “I don’t really know why I had to prove it, though.” To Shirayuki, as if he were sharing a secret, he said, “Must be my boyish good looks. He just can’t believe I’ve settled down so young in life.”

She blinked at him before she said simply, “Sure.”

“See?” he asked Haruka, unable to keep from pushing just a bit more. “She can’t get enough of me.”

“Right,” Haruka said dubiously. One eyebrow raised, he said, “I sincerely hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Of course I do. I had to confess my love quickly, lest she be swept away by another man.”

Someone like the second prince. Haruka met his eyes in understanding. Sort of. Obi barely knew what Obi was planning, but the basic idea was clear: he was going to get in the way of this girl and the second prince, whatever their relationship was at the moment. If they weren’t officially courting, as he suspected by the ease with which she agreed to his ruse, it would be much easier for Obi to spread that rumor. The rumor would either make the princeling back off, or, if he was competitive, might make him pursue her harder. The thing was, Obi was pretty competitive too. He’d fake-court this girl so hard she wouldn’t know what to do with all the adoration. She’d be so distracted that she wouldn’t have time to bring about the fall of civilization as they knew it, or whatever Haruka was convinced would happen if she stuck around. It was all a little too dramatic in Obi’s opinion, but voicing that thought would really only be the pot calling the kettle black. The amount of times he flipped out of windows to make a quick exit for no real reason other than the fact that he could made his opinion on what was over the top a little hypocritical.

Not wanting to let the three of them stay in one room for too long in case someone let something slip to give the whole game away, Obi gently herded Shirayuki towards the door.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said. “Let’s not take up more of the man’s time. I’ll walk you out.”

Once safely out in the corridor, door firmly shut behind them, Obi fought the urge to laugh hysterically because what the hell, he’d just pulled that off. And the very person who made it all possible just inexplicably nodded at him, then turned and walked off, continuing the way she’d been going like people blindly reaching out of doors to drag her into ridiculous plots was a common occurrence for her.

Man, this girl really threw him for a loop. He’d expected her to at least ask him what that was all about, but he found himself tripping after her, asking, “Not that I’m not grateful, but why did you decide to go along with that back there?”

She spared him a brief glance as they rounded a corner and said, “Lord Haruka looked like he didn’t believe you. You looked like you could use some help.”

“Ah, so you did it to pull one over on Haruka.”

“I wouldn’t put it like that,” she said without denying it.

He was liking her more and more with every passing second. Why was Haruka so insistent on her staying away from the second prince again? Hell, marry her off to the first-born. With her knack for lying, rolling with the punches, and taking no shit, she’d be a natural at foreign relations.

“Would you be so kind as to keep up appearances?” Obi asked as they rounded yet another corner. They were most certainly on their way to the gardens. He’d have to wrap this up quickly. “You know, for my sake?”

She frowned.

Obi immediately held up his hands in surrender. “Just telling people we’re courting. We don’t even have to see each other.” Well, he’d keep eyes on her where she couldn’t see, and they’d never be seen together. That was weird, though, so he didn’t say it out loud.

She slowed, then came to a full stop to turn and give him her full attention. He mirrored her and tried not to fidget. (He failed.)

“Why is this so important to you?”

Obviously unable to tel her the real reason, he said, “It’ll make my job easier if people thing we’re involved.”

She eyed him for a moment before she asked, “Is someone trying to marry you off?”

Again, very much not what he’d been expecting her to ask.

“What?” he asked.

“If someone is pressuring you into something you don’t want to do, you can tell me about it. I’ve been through something similar.”

“You,” he said slowly, “have?”

She nodded.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I cut off all my hair and moved here.” She paused. “It’s a long story.”

“Well, I think my hair is a little too short for that at the moment.”

“Fake courting it is, then.” She shrugged. “Okay.”

He forced himself not to ask, “What, just like that?” because this was a gift and he didn’t want to ruin it by making her think about it. Everything was bound to fall apart the second she did, and he hoped he’d get at least a day or two to spread the rumor before she came to her senses.

When he remained silent, she said, “Okay. Bye,” spun on her heels, and walked out into the sunshine bathing the castle grounds just beyond the corridor.

God help him. It wouldn’t be a chore to pretend to be interested in her, to seduce her away from the second prince of Clarines. Oh he liked that thought quite a bit. He knew he was already insufferably cocky and it would not help if he pulled this one off.

He snagged a passing guard and whispered, “Hey, did you hear? That redheaded girl is being courted by some rogue. Didn’t catch his name, though.”

The guards, bless them, were all such horrible gossips. He immediately took the bait, stopped in his tracks, and said, “I thought she was involved with Prince Zen.”

“Not what I heard,” Obi practically sang.

He walked off before the guard could ask any more questions and grinned to himself. Let the games begin.

#obiyukimadness22 #i want to stress that this changes nothing about canon except that now sometimes shirayuki pretends to be dating obi when it's convenient #the castle guards are deeply confused and for years thereafter continue to talk about the rogue who nearly stole lady shirayuki away #(obi thinks this is very funny)#obiyuki #snow white with the red hair #my fic

36 notes · View notes

realtacuardach · 2 years

Text

Finding Favor

Entry for @snowwhite-andtheknight Obiyuki Trope Madness 2022 Semi-Finals: The Lady's Favor

Thanks to Earnshaw (@longagoitwastuesday) for betaing and feedback!

~~~

The wind blew past the flapping flags, disarraying the finely cut tunics, and causing the noblewomen's skirts to billow even with the ornaments wearing them down and making them to squeal behind their fans. Shirayuki felt the back of her lab coat snap behind her and tightened her grip on the wicker basket that held the morning's herbs, grateful she'd chosen the basket with a cover.

She felt the basket lift a little with the gust of the wind, and she tightened her grip and planted it more firmly on the ground. With as much work as it took to polish the knights' armor, there was never a good time to cover the shine with dirt and stems and leaves. However, with the whispers spreading like wildfire throughout the castle that the second prince and the herbalist had parted ways, any mess made however inadvertently of the knights and of Zen by her hand would be labeled as sour grapes.

The corner of her mouth curdled as though she had bitten into one of those sour grapes. Their parting had been mutual, although convincing others proved impossible so far, outside of their immediate circle. Tips of her ears burning at the feel of those practiced nonchalant gazes all around her, she reached up and waved towards Zen, with an enthusiasm within protocol but also a tad more jaunty than her typical custom. Zen waved back with his usual princely gusto, although the glint in his eyes glittered more poignantly than usual, and Shirayuki swallowed down the sudden mass of emotions clogging her throat.

Wind blustered, nearly lifting the basket off the cobblestones, and Shirayuki abandoned her wave to push down on the lid with both hands. A broader hand pressed down beside hers, thumb just shy of brushing her little finger.

Shirayuki gasped out a quick laugh of relief. “Obi, thank you!”

Obi grinned down at her. “You’re welcome, Miss. Seeing everyone off?”

She nodded, and Obi’s eyes skimmed over the knights standing at the ready, landing finally on his Master. His smile somehow showed a little more teeth and a little less mirth. Shirayuki sighed internally, hoping the collective courtiers didn’t catch the change, although the sudden flurry of frenzied fan waving over elegant faces proved her hope overly optimistic.

Well, she supposed this beat the vanishing act he’d been pulling on Zen when the break up first happened.

The prince and the knight looked at each other for a moment; Zen’s horse grazed one hoof across the cobblestones, and the basket creaked beneath Obi’s glove. Then the straws of the basket squeaked a little as Obi released his grip and Zen’s horse settled.

“Travel safely, Master,” Obi called smoothly over the wind whipping at the banners and whispering fluttering behind the fans. He gave a bow deep enough to placate Mitsuhide and to make Kiki snort high in her nose with amusement.

“Thank you, Obi,” Zen nodded, grinning.

Shirayuki heard her breath hiss slowly beneath her teeth as a feeling of rightness settled in her bones. She relaxed enough to lean a little against the basket as the voluminous skirts of a noblewoman billowed past her as the courtier hurried forward. Shirayuki stumbled back, bumping into Obi’s chest as his arms braced her elbows..

“I’m sorry,” the noblewoman murmured, not pausing in her path towards the company of knights. “Sir Hazuka!”

A tow-headed knight who stood by his horse tightening the straps of his saddle turned to face the noblewoman. “Yes, my lady?”

The woman’s voice became more hushed, and the knight leaned a little to hear her. She held up her hands that had been clasped sedately in front of her and opened them. Her posture remained poised and dignified, but Shirayuki saw the back of her ears burn red.

If anything, Sir Hazuka flushed even redder, as he carefully took the brightly embroidered fabric from her.

“Thank you, my lady,” he replied, a bit deeper than his usual tone.

As he tucked the fabric behind his breastplate, the knights did not break formation. However, Shirayuki could see some of them biting their lips to keep solemn and professional.

Obi, not being in the formation, didn’t bother; his low, approving whistle blew over the top of Shirayuki’s hair, making her shiver and lean a little into his bracing stance. “Nicely played, Lady Hage.”

Shirayuki looked up at him, and raised her eyebrows. Obi grinned. “Rumor has it she’s been trying to get his attention for months. She chose the best place to give her favor, there won’t be any misunderstandings. Well, not any more than usual.”

“Her favor?”

“Miss,” his brows drew together in fake scandal. “Her favor is that little handkerchief that he’s now promising to bring back to her. Although since the lot of them are likely to come back from a simple scouting mission intact, it’s more like she’s staking a claim.”

“Obi!” She hissed under her breath.

Obi’s grin grew. “Doesn’t look like he minds, though.”

He inclined his head, to where the knight had folded himself into a courtly bow, one hand taking the lady’s hand as he straightened up before bringing it to his lips.

~~~

Straightening up, Shirayuki swiped her forearm over her sweaty forehead, trying not to move the cloth covering her face. There was something nostalgic about harvesting roka fruit, especially with Obi crouching next to her and placing the fruit as delicately as though he was handling precious jewels..

He can’t wait to get some of the liquor again, she snorted to herself, and Obi looked up at her, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Drunk already, Miss?”

“No!” Shirayuki exclaimed, still laughing. “I’m not that much of a lightweight.”

A single eyebrow rose.

“Obi!”

“If you say so, Miss.” He stood up, brushing dirt off his knees.

The pomp and circumstance of knights departing filtered through the glass doors of the greenhouse, and blew in with the breeze as, laden with fruit, the two walked out into the sunshine.

The thundering of hooves faded as the two made their way up the steps in the gardens. The breeze continued to gust, causing the grasses and flowers to bend in waves of freshness and color. Shirayuki’s basket caught the air and made her stumble backwards, nearly falling off the step.

Once again, Obi’s arms braced her.

“Thanks, Obi!”

“No problem, Miss.”

A cheeky thought entered her mind, and she backed up, placing a dramatic hand to her forehead. “How could I ever show my gratitude?”

Obi cocked his head to one side, eyes glittering with amusement.

Shirayuki reached into her pocket, where she’d placed the handkerchief used to protect her face, and held it delicately. “I pray,” she continued, adopting the courtly tones of the courtiers, “you take this as a token of my gratitude.”

Listening to him put on courtly airs always brought a grin to her face and made her laugh, so she expected the chuckle rumbling through his chest as he closed his fingers over the handkerchief. The gleam in his eyes warmed and softened until it tugged deep in her heart.

Obi tucked the handkerchief under his scarf.

“Wait,” she exclaimed, reaching towards it, “it’s dirty!”

“Ah, ah, ah, Miss,” Obi waved his finger back and forth. “No take-backs, now.”

And he took off in a lope, with Shirayuki nearly jogging to keep up with him, face burning at the glimpse of off-white, purple-stained cloth peeking out from beneath his scarf.

~~~

“How’s it look, Miss?”

Shirayuki took a step back, looked him over, and smiled. Obi stood in one of the colonnades surrounding the courtyard, new cape drawn smoothly across his shoulders, with buttons glowing golden in the early morning light. He looked splendid; moreover, he looked confident in that splendor and bestowed honor. Shirayuki appreciated seeing him regardless of what he wore, but the sight of him so confident and sure in the finery that used to itch him into discomfort pleased her immensely.

Her heart filled her throat so that she didn’t immediately trust her voice. Instead, she settled for action rather than words, and stepped forward to adjust the cape’s clasps and straightening the fine linen of his shirt. “You look very handsome,” she spoke into the fabric as she tried to adjust the bunched sleeve around his left elbow.

“Thank you, Miss,” Obi nearly purred. “Shouldn’t disgrace Master too much at the knighting, do you think?”

“You’re already a knight,” Shirayuki chuckled.

Obi shrugged, smirking. “Still.”

Shirayuki pulled a little on his left sleeve that refused to even out. She pressed down at the elbow, feeling more cloth rather than muscle or bone. Quizzically, she rolled the sleeve up.

“Uh, Miss?”

Shirayuki didn’t pause in her methodical rolling of the shirt sleeve until it went over the lump of cloth. Her breath caught in her throat at the familiar off-white fabric still dotted with stains of roka fruit juice.

“Obi,” she murmured, feeling her cheeks burn with something between embarrassment and flattery. Not trusting her voice to utter anything else, she rolled the fabric between her fingers. She cleared her throat. “I could take this back, and get you something else-”

Obi’s hand rested on top of hers, and she could almost feel the warmth of his skin through his glove. “Remember, my lady.” Dislodging her fingers from the handkerchief, he brought her hand to his lips, brushing over her knuckles, “No take-backs.”

The gold of his eyes burned her pleasantly down to the marrow.

~~~

There had been more herbs to grind that morning than she had anticipated, and so Shirayuki now had to sprint down to the courtyard, praying with all her strength that Obi would still be there. She knew that the idea of him leaving without saying goodbye was ridiculous, and even if he did leave before she arrived, the scouting party he was heading would only be gone for a few days and would soon return.

Still, apprehension tugged unpleasantly at her heels as she ran, muttering apologies as she ducked through castle staff who obligingly moved out of her path. The sight of their bemused gazes and knowing smiles might have troubled her a little if the drone of increasing anxiety didn’t overwhelm everything.

She burst out into the sunshine, breath gusting out in cold clouds around her, and her heart pounded as she sought out his familiar silhouette. It steadied into a still rapid but soothing rhythm as Obi turned from where he’d been instructing the knights in his company to wave and smile at her. “Miss!”

Her smile felt as though it reached her ears, mirroring his, as she walked over to him. “You weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye, were you?”

Obi snorted. “Perish the thought, Miss.”

Shirayuki pushed up on her toes to more securely tie the scarf around his neck. “Is this enough for the trip? It’s supposed to be cold around the borders.”

She determinedly ignored the stifled sounds of amusement surrounding them as she busied her hands in the thick wool. Obi’s smile simply grew wider and his eyes glowed more softly. “Miss, I’ve worn less in worse and been fine. You don’t need to worry.”

“Sorry,” she replied unapologetically, “I’m going to anyway until you’re back.”

Obi’s eyes gleamed. “Likewise, Miss.”

Stepping back, Shirayuki looked him over, how splendid and confident and handsome he looked outlined in the golden rays of the late sun, and blinked back emotion. Looking around for something to occupy her hands, she glanced around to see the familiar wad of fabric tucked beneath his shirt at the left elbow.

Smoothly, she moved forward to roll the sleeve and extract the cloth; Obi, smirking a little at their familiar ritual, rolled down the sleeve obligingly. The fabric, warm from his skin and still mottled with fading juice stains, felt solid and steadying as she tied it into a sturdy knot, the off-white contrasting with his uniform in a most pleasing way.

“You know,” she mused, tying the final knot but not letting go of his arm, “I really should take this back and get you something nicer.”

She could hear his response before he said it.

“Now, now, no take-backs, my lady.”

His grip on her hand grounded her, and the warm, lingering press of his lips on the back of her hand sent fire from her hand throughout her body.

“Please be safe,” she whispered.

Obi squeezed her hand. “Of course,” he replied. “Be back before you know it.”

~~~

Finishing the label on the last of the herbs to be stored, Shirayuki leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms above her head, feeling the tightness in her muscles resolve from a cramp to a dull ache. Normally, she’d ask if Obi would be willing to trade shoulder rubs, but his usual space by the window had been empty the past fortnight since they’d been on the scouting mission.

Storms must have been worse than expected, she mused to herself, trying to keep the emptiness beside the window from settling too deeply into her heart. But they’ll be back soon.

Ryuu had stepped out, so she didn’t stop by his desk before making her way out of their offices to scavenge some food from the kitchens for lunch. The wind blew more coldly than usual as she walked through the colonnades, and she drew her lab coat tightly around her.

Hooves clattered over the cobblestones, and she slowed in her pursuit of food to look towards the courtyard. Her heart leapt in her throat, as she saw the familiar steeds and banners. They’re back!

Obi’s back!

She ran to the courtyard, coat fluttering, not feeling the cold that blew past her face. She nearly stumbled into the courtyard, eyes skimming over the familiar horses and faces, as she panted for breath.

“Hello!” She called cheekily, breathlessly.

And then she froze.

The knights, under Obi’s command, fought bravely and defended well, but tended to not be very serious. She was used to smiles, casual postures, and jibing laughter.

Now, they stood like stone. She could swear she saw shoulders bunching and tightening beneath their mussed uniforms at her call, and no one could meet her eye.

The feeling of something wrong dipped slowly, slimily down her spine, and she took a steadying breath. “Hello?”

Obi’s second-in-command, Sir Sashizu, turned a little away from her, and his shoulders sagged slightly before he let out a staggered breath. He faced her properly, his face creased in a mask of protocol and something like grief as he walked towards hers.

Shirayuki tried to walk forward, but her feet felt weighted to the spot as the knight walked slowly, inexorably toward her.

Sir Sashizu inhaled deeply. “Lady Shirayuki–”

“Where’s Obi?”

Sashizu’s fingers worked almost nervously where they were clasped in front of him. “Lady Shirayuki,” he valiantly began again, before his mask cracked into something more real, but painfully raw, “I’m so sorry.”

Shirayuki didn’t realize her hand had moved until she felt its icy-fingered grip on her throat. “What happened? Where is he?”

“We were,” the knight cleared his throat painfully, “attacked. He fought valiantly, he saved–”

His face blurred. “Where is he?”

“He’s gone, my lady.”

Shirayuki’s hand covered her mouth. “No.”

Against her will, her knees lost their strength and she sank towards the ground. Sashizu’s hands flew apart and he grabbed her upper arms, steadying her. Something fell from his cupped palms as he reached for her, and Shirayuki numbly watched its descent to the ground.

Off-white, spotted with dried juice stains.

Torn in half, rusty brown crusting over the top.

Shirayuki knelt to the ground, feeling the knight’s arms attempting to brace her, his words blown far away by the wind rushing through her ears. Trembling, her hand reached towards the fabric and closed its fingers around it. Stiff and cold, flakes of dark brown floated to the ground as she clutched it.

No take-backs, Miss.

A wail, spine-chilling and heart-wrenching, filled the courtyard, echoing through the colonnades.

It was a full minute before Shirayuki realized it was coming from her.

#obiyukimadness22 #the lady's favor #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #ans #snow white with the red hair

29 notes · View notes

obiyuki-beebs · 2 years

Text

unspeakable things; an excerpt

ObiYuki Madness 2022

Words: 757

I Will Find You

@snowwhite-andtheknight

Note: Hello! This is actually an excerpt from part 2 of a fic I’m working on for the kitty prize from last year ... laughs nervously. @eveluboi pls consider this a smol teaser.

Hope you enjoy <3

Warnings: a bit gory? not super gory? but ya know. referenced injury, blood, general angst, abuse.

---

Obi whipped down the stairs, worn heels of his boots slipping underneath him on the smooth stone of the tower’s steps. He didn’t have time to fall. He didn’t have time to make a plan. All he knew was that he had to get back to her.

But what was he supposed to do?

Shirayuki.

He had left her in the room at the top of the stairs, begging quietly through gritted teeth to whatever gods there might be that the blood running down his front was his own instead of hers; but he knew the truth. The thick bandages he had wrapped around her middle were soaked, sickly and crimson in the dusky dark of morning. Any hope of using magic to heal her had been taken from them when their wands were destroyed.

Obi rounded the bottom of the stairs and stopped suddenly, slamming a tight fist against the wall beside him as hot, unbidden tears made tracks in the dirt on his face. He put his hand on the dagger given to him all those years ago; finest iron, tempered in the heart of a dragon; a dagger that seemed to him to be the last vestige of magic he carried with him.

Outside, a thunderous clamor of the Kings guard rang through the air, a throng at least three hundred strong. Obi wondered if Zen was with them; whether he had been ordered to be there or if he had come willingly. Obi wondered if he would be able to protect her this time, too.

“Dammit,” he whispered, mouth contorting as he fought back the urge to collapse in anticipatory grief. He pulled the dagger out of its sheath and stared hard at it, mind blank as he searched for a way. Any way.

I would do anything to protect her.

The sharp blade almost seemed to glitter despite the darkness around him.

And he thought that maybe he did have magic he carried with him; Obi pictured Shirayuki’s smiling face in his mind. He remembered the way her eyes looked when she had welcomed him home, celery-colored and brimming with tears. If his love for her wasn’t magic, he didn’t know what was.

I have to protect her.

He wiped the tears off of his face and neck, spun the blade, and braced himself.

Then he stepped out of the door to the tower and screamed as he sprinted at the army surrounding him.

—

Kain Wysteria, King of Wistal, sat still on his war horse as he contemplated the keep before him.

It would be easy enough, he thought, to just destroy it.

They would both die. While he wanted the knight dead and gone, he had plans for the red-haired girl that necessitated that she remained alive and intact. Kain glanced over at the Second Prince, frowning at the memory of his son begging him to spare the lives of the two escapees. Zen, still sporting dark bruising from his punishment for such impertinence, sat stoically on his own horse. Kain observed his blank expression.

“It will be better this way,” he said aloud, turning away from sudden look of fear on his sons face. Louder still, he called to the group around him, “Prepare to engage.”

At that moment, he heard the scream; the last and desperate cry of an animal trapped and fighting death; the scream become a roar, and in half a breath, the air erupted in fire.

—

Shirayuki lay on the cold stone slab, her vision swimming with fields of black as she fought to stay conscious.

Blood loss, she thought, and wondered if she even had the strength to check her own pulse. She could feel her heart thumping wildly in an attempt to maintain circulation in a body sorely losing the fight it was waging.

She almost missed hearing Obi’s voice as he cried out; almost missed the way it changed into an awful, guttural roar. The tower walls shook violently around her in a sudden shift of air.

“Obi…” she said, throat dry. She watched smoke drift past the broken wall of the tower. She wondered if it was real or if she might be imagining it; she wondered the same for the burgeoning silver light surrounding her like tendrils of berry roots, shooting in all directions.

“Obi… I’ll find you. I’ll find a way to get back to you. We’ll find each other again. We…”

Whispering, she sank into the unknowing blackness, Obi’s amber eyes in the light the last thing she saw.

---

....okay! happy madness!

#obiyukimadness22 #obiyuki #my writing #submission #obi x shirayuki #Akagami no Shirayukihime #wip #big sigh #i cant wait to read everyones posts / go through the content #i kind of gave up on submitting this year #and then got into bed like two hours ago and realized I had inspiration enough to do this #ta da #editing? i dont know her

24 notes · View notes

sabraeal · 2 years

Text

All That Remains, Chapter 10: The Flower Garden of the Woman Who Could Conjure [Part 7]

[Read on AO3]

Obiyuki Trope Madness 2022, Semifinal #2: I Will Find You

There is romance in the escape, is there not? Fear as well-- so much, enough to choke even you, though you are not the one running. To fly is to risk being caught, to chance a worse fate, to hold your heart in your hands and watch it crushed beneath the heady weight of your hopes.

A risk it may be, but for the greatest reward: freedom. You watch our girl run; you cheer for her to go faster, farther, to break free of the magic of this garden. The grass is greener on the other side, the water sweeter, the universe far more kind.

But that is but another illusion, a story we will tell ourselves again and again and never grow tired. We must believe it: there is a light at the end of the tunnel, an end to our suffering, a better place beyond this one.

Because without it, we will never leave.

Anger nips at Shirayuki’s heels, driving her feet faster and faster, until the portraits begin to blur. Not a hundred pairs of Wisteria blue reaching back into history, but a single gaze, heavy as a hand on her neck. Her slippers stumble beneath it, tumbling her to a stop.

A portrait glares down at her; a king who sits on his throne as if it were made of swords, his face half in shadow from the weight of his brow. Not one of the shining sun kings Clarines is known for, nor even a forefather of Izana’s frigid reputation. No, his is a brutal face, craggy as a mountainside, like the ones painted of the Northern lords of old.

Kain Wisteria, the plaque reads, Regnant. And the dates after it--

You read it, huh? It’s horrifying that he can smile over it, even now. That her Zen, a boy who shines as bright as the sun, can find joy in his own suffering. Because suffer he did; it’s all right here, in Garak’s too-familiar chick scratch. You should know, that’s all over and done with.

She does, she does; it sits stark in back and white, impersonal on the page. No hint of how this was done to a child, how he must have screamed and cried and called for someone, anyone to help him. Did you know about it?

Sure. He shrugs, so easy, like he didn’t court death on purpose. Like he didn’t look it in the eye and live, over and over. It’s about me, isn’t it?

That’s not what she wants to ask, what words are tearing at her throat to fly free. Why? she wants to say, she wants to scream. Why would you do this to yourself?

People do strange thing for fear, Garak tells her, later. Unprompted, a simple aside as she partitions out doses, taking an envelop in her own long fingers and holding it open for Shirayuki to fill. And they do even more unforgivable things for love--

Shirayuki’s hand reaches out, reaches up, stretching toward an unfamiliar brow, towards a king no courtier will speak of. Careful, Eisetsu had murmured once, his hand gentle on her back as she stepped into the carriage. Even the sun has to cast shade.

“Is that who you are?” she murmurs to the man she will never know. “Zen’s shadow?”

“Shirayuki!”

Her feet scuttle back, shuffling beneath her, prepared to break into a run. But there’s no need, not when the man who rounds the corner is nearly as tall as the knight’s armor in it. “Mitsuhide.”

“Please,” he pants, breath heaving as he approaches. “Wait a-- oh. You aren’t running.”

You’re not Zen. It’s on the tip of her tongue, but she cannot decide whether it is an observation or an accusation. “Is there a reason I should be?”

“N-no!” He flushes, not just from exertion. “I’m not going to bring you back. Not if you don’t want to.”

His tone makes it clear he’s hopeful she will. That he believes there is a reason good enough to explain away what’s been done. “I don’t.”

“I know that you--” he flounders beneath her steady gaze-- “you must be...hurt? That Zen didn’t tell you his reasons for stopping the search. But you have to see that--”

Her hand flies up between them, his excuses stuttering to a stop. “It’s not about his reasons.”

Mitsuhide blinks, a hound confused at an empty bowl. “It’s not?”

“No.” Her breath broadens the set of her shoulders; small she might be, but right now a lance could glance her shoulder, like they did at tourneys of old, and she wouldn’t sway an inch. “No reason is good enough for him to have abandoned Obi. I’m disappointed. That this is what he decided...and that all of you let him, like Obi...like he never mattered to you.”

He stumbles a whole step back, hand clutched to his chest as if she took her hand to him rather than her words. There’s a storm brewing on his brow as he rights himself, as foreign as a tornado tearing through hilltops. An expression that hardly belongs on a face so friendly as his.

“Of course Obi matters.” His hands fist at his side, cracking as he forces his fingers straight. “But I respect him as a fellow knight, and my...my friend. If he said--”

“Did he say?” Desperation turns her voice into a stranger. “Did he tell you he meant to go? That you couldn’t come after him, because he chose to...to...”

Mitsuhide is made of mercy; it’s no surprise he gives it to her, even now. “No,” he murmurs, so soft. “He didn’t. But I know how it feels to watch the person that you...”

His lips press together; even with the secret unleashed, running rampant through all their minds, he won’t give Obi up further. It’s frustrating to see so much loyalty, and yet have it be so misplaced.

“But would you have left her?” Shirayuki takes a step toward him, her fingers knotted down to the bone. “If Kiki had married Hisame, would you have left?”

His reply is faster than thought. “Never.”

“Never?”

“I have my duty.” His shoulders tense, torn by even the ghosts of what could have been. “But if she had married him, I could never have-- oh.”

Terrible realization dawns in his dark eyes, old shadows ushered out at the same time new ones roll in. “I never could have left, because I would have wanted to be there for her. Even if I couldn’t have her. That’s why I...”

Mitsuhide’s hands are broad, callused; the kind that seem strong even in repose. One of them rises now, wrapping around the horror his own mouth has unleashed. Right here, in the steady lamplight of Wistal’s halls, a man so big has never seemed so small.

“You see it now, don’t you?” She’s steely and soft all at once, a bludgeon wrapped in silk. “Why I can’t believe he wanted to go?”

“No.” It’s muffled by his hand, but the way slight way he stakes his head. “No...”

Her hand comes, resting gently on his arm, as warm and safe as it has ever been.

“I won’t stay mad forever, Mitsuhide, I know that. But I...” She licks her lips, letting the motion ground her. “But I don’t think I can stay here either. Not when he needs me.”

A story makes an escape trim and lean: an adventure with a clear end, a decision with a clear reason, a question with an easy answer. It is obvious, inevitable from the first doubt. It is unrelenting, a race from the the first step to the last. There is no room for guessing or for second thoughts, only the ceaseless beat of words upon the page, the rising crescendo of strings, tense and finite.

But flight is never a whim of the moment, a convenient suitcase at the door. No, the decision in itself is a journey, one full of stumbles, of pitfalls. Of dollars beneath a mattress, of a pack hidden in the depths of the closet. It is nights filled with tossing and turning, of wondering what comes next-- or more terrible, what comes after.

Jump, we say, knowing that there are pages more to go, that we can but skim to better times. Run, for there are miles to go before your tale is finished. Hope, because for you, happiness is only a finger’s width away.

That is what stories steal from these leave-takings: the unknowing.

Her clothes are cloying in the confines of her chambers.

The lace at her neck chafes, chewing angry marks onto her throat. Love bites, Obi laugh once, peeling the offending fabric from her skin, only you could get them the un-fun way, Miss.

Her fingers sneak between flesh and fabric, holding it away, giving herself room to breathe, to think. She can see her skirts pacing in the mirror, a susurration of silken whispers as she walks. Mitsuhide had let her go, but she imagines him just outside her door, wondering what secrets they would whisper to him--

She stills. In the silvered glass, a stranger looks out at her. Who is she, this woman in taffeta and lace? This woman who wears pearls as clasps and sees it as simple, as plain? Whose skin is only spotted by the imperceptible faults of silver.

It shouldn’t be her. She is not satin shoes and mother-of-pearl buttons, nor carnelian combs and perfect politesse. No, she is made of loam, a tall stalk waving in the wind; a tincture titrated in a lab, the soft burble of a beaker at boil, a seed wrapped in stone and left to shine.

You lack the practical knowledge of what you are asking. Her hand fists in the fabric, wrinkles tickling her palm. The title of princess is not just decoration.

And yet she had nearly become one, trying to be the woman expected of her. All it had taken was simple shift from implicit to explicit. Not a promise itself, but a promise of a promise.

Sacrifice should be expected of a lady, Mihoko creaked at her once, opinion as final as a slammed door. And a princess must be prepared to give all.

Haki had rolled her eyes, had given a subtle sigh when Her Ladyship’s back had been turned, but-- but--

It’s Mihoko who spoke rightly in the end. She had given up everything for this chance-- the pharmacy, the gardens, her life’s work; everything that had given her joy or purpose. And in the end, she had lost herself, lost even--

Her fingers clench again, but this time they tug, they tear, until eyes pop from their hooks, until taffeta and lace fall to the floor and all that is left is Shirayuki. Trembling, perhaps, but whole.

She will not lose one more thing. Not this time.

No flight begins from a stand still. Even the smallest sparrow creates their own lift from nothing, filling themselves with terrible potential before they take to the skies, free and safe. Quick to the eye, but to the body itself-- a cost, like any other.

Obi never taught her the trick of traveling between balconies.

Trying to steal my job already, Miss? he laughed, his smile crinkling his eyes, the way it did when she’d truly surprised him. It’ll only make it harder if I have to worry about you scurrying about the castle where folks can’t see.

But what if I need to see you? It was an innocent question, a worry she’d chewed over in the hours since Tanbarun. A concern that had only grown more pressing when Eisetsu had sent him off after the ball, all on his own, right into the arms of Bergatt.

It’s only now that she understands the rictus of his grin, the humor frozen in the corners of his mouth. But, Miss, he hummed, so warm it set her cheeks to burning, it’s my job to come to you.

Her boot slips on the rail, it’s tread worn thin through a dozen gardens, a hundred roads. It would take a single step to make it to Obi’s balcony, to avoid the potential princess being seen sneaking into the abandoned chambers of her half-tamed knight. It would take a more careless one for more than her hopes to be dashed on the ground below.

What if you can’t. She only ever saw his worse wounds after they healed, that scar from Sereg puffy and pink but speaking of careful-- and long term-- attention. What if--

Don’t worry, he said so easily, as if she could ever stop. I’ll always be at your side. What did I say? Wherever you go, I’ll follow.

“Liar.” The word sobs out on a breath, all her tears already shed. Still, she rubs at her eyes, knuckles coming away wet. “Liar.”

It’s not Obi’s skill she uses to traverse the gulf between, but her own; the ones she honed as a child climbing down the decorative trellis beneath her window, or shimmying up the forest’s trees. She stares down at the toes of her boots as they settle beneath her, straight like a knife buried in a block, and thinks of the blind faith she once had in herself, the trust she had that her small body would sling her between the wooden posts that crossed the reservoir. And when she takes her step--

She lands, right on Obi’s balcony.

So it is with little girls. They must prepare themselves, must take their small hops, their small flaps, must fill themselves with the terrible to fuel their flight. A kite needs a running start to ride the winds, and little girls--

Ah, well, there are two ways for them. Some only need a push.

Obi never taught her how to pick a lock either; at least, not with the ease he had. Obi could stroll up to a keyhole and convince it to open with the barest twist of his wrist, or cajole a set of french doors to swing wide with only a barest insinuation, but for Shirayuki-- even if she got to her knees, even if she used every pin in her hair, not a single tumbler would move.

A good thing, then, that the handle warms beneath her palm, turning with the gentlest twist.

Shirayuki stares, bone stark against polished brass. It’s open. Obi had left the door to his own personal chambers unlocked. Her stomach gives a sick lurch, a free fall towards her toes, just like it had at the tower. Only now, as she crosses the threshold, there is no one left to jump in after her.

Stale air chokes her; there’s no scent to it, nothing left to molder, but still it smells...undisturbed. Stifling almost; an attic in the dog days of summer, though with none of the heat. No, it’s cool in here, not even the dust the slightest bit scattered and it’s-- it’s--

It’s exactly as Obi left it. Bed made with the crispness of the castle’s staff, untouched. After all, it’s not as if he’d slept in it that night. Not when she’d told him--

Her eyes close, hand blindly gripping for his chair. There’s no point in thinking of that now. That his pens are still in their haphazard scatter across his desk, that his papers are all left so neatly, held down by a book he’d surely never used for anything but its weight-- no guards had been in here. For all of Zen’s assurances, he hadn’t even stretched himself this much.

Anger seethes in her veins, just beneath the thin cover of her skin, but she takes a breath, letting it cool. That’s why she’s here, after all. If this had all been done, if Zen had done as he promised-- well, perhaps more than this would be different. But instead she is on the precipice-- no, at the edge of a tower, wondering if she should jump.

After all, Zen’s knife was not the only message Obi left. Ryuu had his seed as well. Broken promises both, his failures in physical form. But for her--

Nothing. No apology, no acknowledgement. Only silence. Perhaps, after all these years, she deserved it.

But she doubts Obi would agree.

Shirayuki crouches, the parquet hard beneath her knees. The carpet by his bedside lays flat, not a single tassel out of place, but she knows better. Obi thought he was so clever, but she’d been an only child in an old house, a girl filled to the brim with stories of secret passages and hidey-holes. If he thinks a carpet kept her from knowing about his cache from the kitchen, or the bag he kept packed with them-- well, she saw no reason to tell him.

The board prises loose beneath the barest application of a finger to it’s edge, or it least it did to one that knew the trick of it. She sets it aside, heart in her throat, but--

But there’s nothing there. He took everything.

And other little girls...they must fall.

Tears sting her eyes as her finger brush the empty boards below, only dust rising to meet them. No, he didn’t take everything.

Her breath catches in her throat, the same way her fingers catch in a fist. He kept it.

Blood trickles down a breast; it soaks into cloth with each ragged gasp. That is where stories leave us between their lines: alone and bleeding, the sword beside us. When next it find us, all this will be far behind us, merely backstory for what happens after.

But that is not the important part is it? No, that would be the terrible breaths between. The moment in which one stares at the edge coated in their own life’s blood and wonder, shall I turn my back on it, or shall I put it back in?

A hand reaches out, trembling. What would it be like to choose neither? To instead take this weakness and wield it.

Fingers grip, pale against the hilt. Suffer not a weapon left in the enemy’s grasp.

The spathe flutters from her ankle as the little girl runs, hard stones pounding beneath the soles of her feet. Her gaze is fixed at the gate, and no matter how the path warps, or how the garden grows, she keeps running, one step after another. Endless, like swimming a river upstream, fighting a current she cannot see or feel until--

Until reality snaps back to sensibility, the gate but an arm’s reach away. What had from a distance looked solid, wrought of iron and impossible to break, is now a sad thing, rusted and hung crooked on its hinges. Fastened shut it may be, but when she raised a hand to its lock, it flakes away, staining her palms.

And older woman might wonder at that, might dwell on what it says that one is marred by their circumstance even in leaving them, but--

But our girl is too young for such things. When the gate swings open, she flees, the wide world opening around her.

It is so easy for children to take such chances.

No, it is easy for us to tell them to. Stick a toe in that pond, child, the water is only cold when you first get in. You’ll get used to it in time. It will be warm once it is familiar.

Eat that, it’s good for you. You have never seen it before, never tasted such a thing on your tongue, but trust will make it sweet. Watch me, child, let me go before you. Delicious. A flavor you will anticipate for days to come, all you need is to take your first bite.

Run, we say, there is something better waiting for you on the other side. All a little girl need to do is reach out, to grab it. There will be someone on the other side, waiting to catch her.

It would be practical to wait. No, it would be prudent to play princess for another day longer, maybe even two or three. Enough for suspicions to ease, for everyone to believe Shirayuki would keep on as she had. To convince themselves that when she had said, I won’t give up, it had been yet another promise she meant to break, an oath she had no intention to see through.

But no second thoughts, no cunning plans slow her hands. For she knows that with each moment she lingers, each hour she pretends to be content with her life within these shining walls is another that brings it closer to being truth. Her anger spurs her now, but should she let it cool, should she let the words of those she well-loves sing in her ears--

Well, she already turned her back on him once. To test herself again, to rely on her better judgement when it failed her so spectacularly-- unnecessary.

The last of her clothes packed-- the ones that would survival travel, the ones she came with only months ago, the only ones to her name-- she reaches blindly for the top drawer. There’s no reason for it; she knows that there’s nothing there, not for outside the palace, but still--

Her hands brush over a wooden box. Precious stones cut against her fingers, and even without opening it, she pictures the treasure inside. Mother of pearl, carved jade, gold and silver pieces wrought as thin as wire; a small fortune.

The edges dig into the flesh of her knuckles. Perhaps she is not quite done with this place after all.

The little girl has read all the tales: it is foolish to look back. But still, still-- she cannot shake the eyes on her back, nor the niggling idea that she has forgotten something most important, most precious.

She looks back once.

The consort is at dinner.

The moon is high in the sky, but Haki will be at her seat for hours more, conversing with those nobles that jockey to jostle royal elbows. At Tanbarun’s court, Raj’s father had barely stayed a few minutes past desert-- but there were few who were as diligent as Clarine’s king and queen. They wouldn’t leave until every dish was cleared and every concern aired, and when they returned--

Ah, well, Shirayuki had learned well enough that Haki did not always make it all the way back to her rooms. And with no consort to protect, there is only one drowsing guard on duty, one who is far more concerned about staying upright than the girl in the white coat scurrying past. He waves her on with a snort, only saying, “Leave it on the table.”

Her smile freezes on her lips. “I’ll only take a moment.”

A promise that is easy to keep; there’s no paper-wrapped parcel on the table now, but it is easy-- too easy-- to place her own there. The mother of pearl shines in the moonlight.

“Thank you,” she tells the empty room, an easier audience than for whom the message is meant, “but I won’t be needing these anymore.”

Her touch lingers, tracing the shimmering petals. They look nearly liquid in the moonlight, small glistening ponds carved out of the earth around them. “I think maybe...I never did.”

There is nothing behind her, nothing but a garden overgrown and gate rusting a pieces. A broken illusion, made all the sadder for the seeming.

In front of her is a hill, not steep but treacherous at night, the sort filled with little hidey holes to turn a girl’s ankle. At least, if she wasn’t careful. This little girl might not have shown much of that lately, but now, now-- it’s different.

And yet, as she picks her way down the hillside, she cannot shake that feeling. That sense of something missing, that sense of something watching.

She looks back twice.

An arm bars her path when she takes the turn to the royal offices, but it’s a familiar smile that greets her. Kai’s eyes dance as he tells her, “He’s not there, my lady.”

“Ah...” A part of her is relieved; to explain this to Zen in person would take more anger than her body could hold, and she cannot waver, not again. But yet, an equal one is disappointed, still hoping that perhaps this was all just a misunderstanding, that only a few minutes’ honest conversation could set this all to right--

But the dagger had been sheathed so casually at his hip, as if it had never left. If she had not seen it, if she had allowed her eyes to glossy over it familiar shape--

Ah, it is not so simple as that. Nothing between them ever will be again. But hope is, as ever, the hardest thing to smother, even a flame as small as this. “He isn’t?”

Kai shakes his head, leaning in with a conspiratorial grin. “Sir Mitsuhide had him out of there not an hour past. Said that maybe a few hours sleep might set him all to rights.”

It’s an effort to suppress the urge to go to him, to hold his hands in hers and work through all this together. She clenches them inside, hiding them in the pockets of her skirt. “Is that so?”

“He musta gotten into it with Lady Kiki,” he tells her, as if all this were some joke, just one of their usual disagreements, destined to be solved by morning. “When I came on duty she flew out of there like the floor was made of coals, muttering all sorts of things, if you can believe it.”

She can’t, not with the way Kiki stood so silent, so still, just hours ago. How when she needed her most-- when Obi needed her most, she--

Shirayuki teeth clack into a smile. “You don’t say?”

Kai looks down at her, guileless, and asks, “Are you going to go see if you can catch him, my lady, or--?”

“No, no, I just...” Her fingers clench, knuckles knocking into cool metal. They unfurl, wrapping around rounded edge, each tick and tock matching the steady beat of her own heart. They had been that way too, once; in sync. “I just wanted to leave something here for him. For tomorrow.”

There’s not a hint of suspicion as he steps aside, waving her through. “Go right on ahead then, my lady. I’m sure it’ll make his day.”

She thumbs the crown, feeling it twist ever so slightly between her touch. “I certainly hope it will make him think of me.”

The door swings open easily beneath her hand, leading to the dark office beyond. By the time it shuts, she is trembling.

“Please, understand,” she whispers as she pulls out the drawer, arrowhead still in its glass case. The watch settles in beside it as if it were always made to be there, two betrayals framed side by side. “That’s all I want. For you all to understand.”

Scree scrabbles beneath her feet, and the little girl realizes: they are bare. Her precious red shoes are inside still, tucked beneath her bed. It’s too late to turn back, too late to have second thoughts or second chances, but--

She looks back a third time.

In Lilias, the pharmacy never closes. Just like the guard, pharmacists were expect to take the odd night shift, fielding the mortal and mundane in equal measure. But here in Wistal, its doors shut soon after the evening bell, herbalists roused from their own beds should there be a need in the early hours.

And yet still, light limns Ryuu’s door, the lamp burning bright from inside. A mind that never sleeps, Shidan had said once, a smile lurking at the corner of his mouth as Obi lifted Lilias’ smallest scholar, but the body must.

She half expects to find him beneath his desk, curled up as he had years ago, only the flutter of a curtain to betray him. But he’s too big for that now; taller than even Obi when he forgets to slouch. And so when she walks in, those pale eyes find her, blue as the Wisteria colors. A thought he’d hate, if he could hear her think it.

“Shirayuki,” he says, almost as if he can’t believe she’s there. “Why...?”

There’s nothing in her pockets for him; the hairpin he picked for is her lost now, taken from it’s place. But that-- that hardly matters. It’s not a promise she’s here to break, after all. Not when she already crushed so many in her carelessness.

“I’m leaving,” she tells him, and suddenly, it’s real. “I’m leaving.”

His mouth falls open, gaze scrabbling over the cut of her dress-- yes, for once, her dress; one with pockets and raised hems and fabric meant to be dirtied. “But...why...?”

“Obi left.” The words sting her lips as they leave them. “But I’m going after him. I wanted to-- to--”

Say goodbye.

“I’ll come with you.” There’s no hesitation, his eyes flickering over jars and books and samples. “Just give me an hour, no two, and I can--”

“No.” She shakes her head, tearing from the effort. “You have to stay here.”

“But--”

“You’re the Head Pharmacist now.” By the sudden slump of his shoulders, he hardly needs the reminder. “The people here need you.”

“So does Obi,” he insists, though it’s weaker, less sure. “So do you.”

“We do.” It’s easy to close the space between them, to wrap his too-large hands with her smaller ones, casting shadows over his papers. “I do. But that’s why you have to stay. There always has to be someone to come home to, doesn’t there?”

His eyes widen, and oh, he’s never looked more like a child than this moment. “You’ll come back?”

“When I find him,” she promises, though she can’t imagine it. There’s too many ifs between then and now, too many maybes, but this time, this time-- she means to keep her word. “When I find him, I’ll come back.”

We are not children, you and I. We know that we do not live stories; that life is more than crescendo to climax, from falling action to denouement. That when a door opens, there is no easy answer on the other side, no better life ready-made for a girl to slip into, like her favorite pair of red shoes.

No, there is nothing there that we do not make for ourselves, that is not the blood of our body and the sweat off our back and the tears from our own sorrow. What lays on the other side is the chance but to make it, our hands bleeding from the hard work of carving our own destiny.

But it is better than having stayed.

Obi never taught her to run away.

Not that Shirayuki ever needed help with that anyway. She knows full well the art of leaving everything behind, of abandoning all her worldly possessions with hardly more than a glance over her shoulder and regret knotted deep in her heart. To do it again is hard, harder than she ever imagined it could be, but-- at least this time, she doesn’t have a prince hot on her heels.

Yet. Hard to say how long that’ll last, though.

This time too, she has resources. Last time she wore out the soles of her boots walking, but this time, this time-- a horse nickers in its stall.

“C’mon, girl,” she whispers, brushing a quick hand over a silver flank. “Just stand still.”

Shirayuki isn’t fluid in horse, but she’s pretty sure it rolls its eyes. It certainly shies away from her, favoring her with a dubious snort.

She hefts up the saddle, staggering under its weight. “I just have to get this one you! So if you don’t move--”

“All these years with Obi,” an amused voice drawls from behind her. “And he’s never taught you how to steal a horse.”

Shirayuki spins on her heel, and across the straw, she meets Kiki’s amused gaze.

When the little girl slows to catch her breath, it’s the snowdrop that catches her eye, lingering out of season. An impossibility with the way the air cools around her, but still, still-- magic makes all things possible. And she is not too far from the sorceress and her guardian.

She approaches, wary. They are unobtrusive; in the garden they had been lost beneath the brighter, louder blooms, but they grew even still, undaunted by the crowd around them. Snowdrops are known to be hardy, these ones already firmly entrenched in the soil, though they can’t have been growing long. Stalwart, even with their fragile beauty.

The little girl has always liked them. In her village, to find one before the snow melt was a sign of luck, a blessing born from cold misfortune. Every year, it would be her that found the first bloom, hidden beneath her window or tucked against the stoop. The luckiest girl in the whole world, her neighbors would laugh.

At least they did, until she lost her boy.

“Ah...” Shirayuki shuffles back, putting more space between them. At least, until the wall rises to meet her back, and ah yes, she’s only trapped instead. “Obi doesn’t really like horses.”

Kiki sighs, detaching from the shadows with a roll of her eyes. She’s dressed in black, the way she never is, hands gloved and sword strapped to her side.

Her strong hands lift, taking the saddle from her, dropping it back to the rail. “Kiki--”

Slowly, purposefully, Kiki plucks up a brush, skimming it over the mare’s back.

“You have to clean them first,” she says, stern. “And then you can worry about the tack.”

She’s not sure why the first thing she thinks to say is, “But I did.”

Kiki snorts. “You didn’t. I was watching you.”

There’s not much to say to that. Or rather there’s too much to say, too much between them to start, unless she means to be here all night.

“I can do it,” she says finally, holding out her hand for the brush.

“No.” Kiki doesn’t even bother to look as she moves, motions swift, efficient, and yet strangely gentle. “I know what I’m doing.”

Do you mean to bring me back? the little girl asks, barely more than a whisper. I will not let you.

I do not, the snowdrop sighs, I will not.

The little girl crouches, heart in her throat. Then do you know where my boy is? My precious one?

“Um...” Shirayuki casts about for something to say, for something to do besides watch Kiki calmly, methodically tack a horse. “What are you doing?”

She hesitates, arching a brow. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You...” Her mouth is dry, hope choking her harder than her anger ever did. “You can’t stop me from leaving.”

The snowdrop does not shy, does not wilt, but she does sway, the wind moving her in its grasp.

I do not, the snowdrop tells her, I am but one flower, and out of season. Even if I called to all my brothers, all my sisters, they would be sleeping beneath the earth.

Then why, the girl sobs, tears welling when they should be well spent, why have you come?

“I know.” Kiki’s face is placid, a lake the moment before the stone lands. “I don’t mean to try.”

“Oh.” She shuffles, boots scuffing against the wooden floor. “I...good.”

“There’s no point.” Kiki makes short work of the saddle, poking the mare’s belly as she says, “I’m coming with you.”

I may be only one flower, the snow drops says, confident for such a small thing. But if you put me behind your ear, then we could go together.

I do not understand. She does, she does, but oh there is nothing more terrifying than hope.

If you but put me behind your ear, the snow drop says, shyly now, then you would not have to go out in this world alone.

Shirayuki stares. “What...?”

“A princess can’t be without her knight, can she? I may not be the one you’re used to--” her smile curls ruefully in the dark--“ but I promise, I’m far more competent.��

“But...” Her mouth works, trying to form a thought. Why is the only one that comes to mind, and even she is not innocent enough to believe Kiki would answer it. “I...”

Thank you, would be the polite response, the one that would have sprung from her first, before anything else. But even now she sees Kiki as she was in Zen’s office, silent and stoic, turning away when she sought support.

“I’ve always found,” she says, voice trembling, “that Obi has his advantages.”

Kiki’s smile breaks away into a grin. “Well, there’s no accounting for taste.”

The little girl plucks the snowdrop from its roots, weaving her stem into her hair. Petals tickle the shell of her ear, and for the first time she smiles. Will this not hurt you, to be taken from your ground?

Worry not, the little flower tell her. For just as sorceresses, little girls have magic all their own.

The girl nods, careful not to jostle her flower. Her grandmother had told her the same, long long ago, and she saw no cause to doubt it now. With hands on her hips, she stands tall, even as her toes curl with cold. The summer is gone and faded for the land; the colors now come from the trees, littering their leaves on the land.

Oh, how I have wasted my time, the little girl sighs with despair. It is autumn. I have no more time to rest.

Kiki boosts her up into the saddle, silver shying beneath her weight. “You understand, don’t you?” she murmurs into the flank of this horse. “What all this might cost when it’s over?”

Shirayuki blinks down, and for the first time, she notices the thick wool of Kiki’s jacket. The night presses in, cold against her cheeks. The last time she saw Obi, even muslin had felt stifling.

“Whatever it is,” she replies, barely able to lift her voice above a whisper, “losing Obi would be worse.”

Kiki stills, her hand pressed against the mare. “That’s not what I was asking,” she says slowly, carefully, “but I suppose that’s an answer in and of itself.”

“You still mean to come with me?”

Her hand moves, placing itself with a comforting heft just above her knee. In the dark, Kiki’s eyes shine, just as hard as the sapphires on Haki’s coronet. “I owe you that much.”

She steps away, a breath shuddering out of her. “And him too.”

For that is the truth of it, is it not? We must make our own destinies, carving them from our bodies like the most bloodiest births, but when we do--

Ah, when we learn to stand up for ourselves, that is when others learn to stand beside us too.

#obiyukimadness22 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #trope: i will find you #All That Remains #snow queen au #my fic #ans #'it'll only be 4K' i said #'it'll be one of the short chapters'#and here we are 6K later #And finally. FINALLY. we are done with this part #and onto The Prince and the Princess #ONLY ABOUT FIVE CHAPTERS AFTER I THOUGHT WE WOULD BE

21 notes · View notes

batgirlsay · 2 years

Text

Green and Gold

For Obiyuki Madness 2022 “Fake Relationship” by @snowwhite-andtheknight

Trope type themes were more difficult than I expected... so this playlist ended up being “10 Seconds Later” Version 2 after looking at the songs I had compiled since the last round of playlists. The title represents their eyes in that fateful fake stare and other lyrics with color and eye imagery throughout. Most songs are rediscovered Incubus songs to fit the prompt and I borrowed a few songs from my original Matt Pond Obi playlist to fill in the blanks.

Green Eyes- Joseph Imperfect- Matt Pond Stopping- Matt Pond Release Me- Mae Oil and Water- Incubus Black Heart Inertia- Incubus Neither of Us Can See- Incubus If Not Now, When?- Incubus

Summary lyrics are cited after the cut:

Green Eyes- Joseph

Those green eyes are my green light

I'm ready for the fall, if you know me at all You know I don't need lights to decide I'm not changing my mind

We could both play the pretender Circling round this parking lot

Imperfect- Matt Pond PA

The leaves came with a turning twist From leaves upon the floor The heart skips with a crashing fall Leave us always wanting more

The pulse picks up inside the dark When the bells break in the woods Our eyes so wide they give off light You've never looked so good

Imperfect, that's the way we want it

May all our scars Be signs of how truly far we have come

Stopping- Matt Pond PA

If I could stop Don't you think I'd stop? If I could write you off Wouldn't I stop writing to you?

My memory goes around the bend Can't track start and I can't make it end Fawn stays undaunted in the headlights

I won't jump any walls I won't cut through the thick I will stay on my side

Your white tail bolts into the dark Heart's in your throat And your throat's in your heart Fawn is off in the wilderness

I know you won't belong Not to me, not to me I believed for so long

Close my eyes Never see

Softly say turn it off forever

Release Me- Mae

Grey clouds they infiltrate As every move you make Gets me closer to clarity

Could you be the one to release me Waiting for your love to free me

A torrential downpour The potential for more Cease to fight this tension that Ignites us here in the dark Cause tension causes friction And this friction leads to spark

Oil and Water- Incubus

You and I are like oil and water And we've been trying to mix it up

I've been smiling with anchors on my shoulders And I've been dying to let them go

Babe, this wouldn't be the first time It will not be the last time There is no parasol that could shelter this weather

Black Heart Inertia- Incubus

Walking alone tonight Cause I've only got room for two Me and my burdened black heart It's all we know how to do

Pulled by a false inertia Pushed out by circumstance

Here I am, first foot of the climb Watch me go Lover, can you help me? I'm a child lost in the woods A lit path eludes me

You're a mountain that I'd like to climb Not to conquer, but to share in the view You're a bonfire and I'm gathered 'round you Set this old black heart inertia aflame

Neither of Us Can See- Incubus

I am one big walking chemical reaction A buzzing hive of self synopsis and nascent self perception Isn't it disdainful and curious That both of us think we know everything

We both have pains We both have eyes Neither of us can see

One in the same Two of a kind And neither of us can see

If Not Now, When?- Incubus

I have waited, dined on ashes Swung from chandeliers and climbed Everest And none of it's got me close to this

I've waited all my life If not now, when will I?

We've been good, even a blast, but Don't you feel like something's missing here? Don't you dare

Stand up and face the bright light Don't hide your eyes It's time

#akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #obiyukimadness22 #obiyuki madness 2022 #obiyuki #shirayuki #obi #playlist #lyrics #joseph band #matt pond pa #mae #incubus #first time submitting for obiyuki madness!#I needed an image with their eye colors so this works!

14 notes · View notes

batgirlsay · 2 years

Text

Found at Last

For Obiyuki Madness 2022 “I Will Find You” by @snowwhite-andtheknight

Even with this more abstract theme 8 songs seemed like a lot… but it worked out after digging through more of the old Incubus songs. Then I added some of my all-time favorites from Copeland, Eisley, and Taylor that work for both Obi searching for Shirayuki and finding his place with her. Also glad the Eisley B-side “Lost and Found” was on Youtube, it’s a perfect ending to this playlist!

Chiromancer- Copeland Echo- Incubus Absolution Calling- Incubus Trust Fall- Incubus Invisible String- Taylor Swift Brave- Violents Find Me Here- Eisley Lost and Found- Eisley

Summary lyrics are cited after the cut:

Chiromancer- Copeland

Are we just fooling ourselves Living in the moment? Am I just dying inside Living all alone here?

In a storm of quiet voices You're the only one that I can never find

I hear you call my name If only I could call out through the void to reach you If only I could stretch across the depths to hold you

Echo- Incubus

There's something about the look in your eyes Something I noticed when the light was just right It reminded me twice that I was alive And it reminded me that you're so worth the fight

Your biggest fear will be the rescue of you Strange how it turns out that way

Absolution Calling- Incubus

It's like an intuition, or a feeling in the air An intangible impression that's always everywhere You bit into the apple, laid down your sword and shield

Inside, your elegant guide, an arrow in flight, a million miles

I remember feeling the opposite of falling Into that spot, where we untie every knot Spinning past the ceiling, absolution calling Are you there, or not?

Trust Fall- Incubus

It's only a trust fall, into the arms of all Love is a blessed curse, lets you sail across the known universe

Taking that dare is a fire under my feet

Now I embrace what's in front of me Right in front of me

Invisible String- Taylor Swift

Time, curious time Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs

Were there clues I didn't see?

And isn't it just so pretty to think All along there was some Invisible string tying you to me?

Brave- Violents

I need to be abandoned So that I can be afraid

Cause if I become terrified Then I can show you brave

Now I have come to shatter you So I can have one piece To keep you searching endlessly For the part of you I keep

You count, I will hide Catch me in your eye Take me home instead

Find Me Here- Eisley

I'm a watchtower in the morning Waiting for the sun to rise I've got riverbeds in my eyes I'm a bonfire on a hillside

The wind whistles sharp through my teeth I've been burning oil, walking the streets All I want is to be set free Oh, I'm trying

Oh Love, find me here Oh Love, I'm buried near

Lost and Found- Eisley

I was standing alone Waiting for you to come home

I'm lost and I'm found And it just so happens it'll happen to you too

I was so wrong about you And first and foremost Let me apologize Cause I realized how unorganized my thinking was

I would if you would too I would if you pulled through I am saving you for last

#akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #obiyukimadness22 #obiyuki madness 2022 #obiyuki #shirayuki #obi #playlist #lyrics #copeland #incubus #taylor swift #violents band #eisley #I wasn't gonna let bathtub whatever it is win this round

12 notes · View notes

kirayaykimura · 2 years

Text

Don’t Wanna Keep Secrets Just To Keep You

For Obiyuki Madness 2022 Final Round - Fake Relationship

The bar & grill closest to the pharmacy Shirayuki worked at also happened to provide some of the best people-watching in town. Or so she’d been told. She never could get the hang of being interested in speculating on random people’s lives, but Obi seemed to like it and, well, she liked Obi.

The people-watching would probably be excellent that night, too. Though it was only six at night on a Thursday, the place was already half-full. Not so packed that she wanted to suggest another place for dinner, but enough that she had to wait a few minutes for the bartender to get to her. It was during those unfortunate minutes that she had attracted the attention of a very inebriated man who was insisting he buy her a drink. Why, she had no idea.

“I don’t want to drink alone,” he said, leaning in close like he was confiding something in her. She held her ground, but only just. The hot breath on her neck was making it really hard not to shove him off the other side of his stool. But all he’d done so far was - rather forcefully - offer to buy her a drink. Nothing that deserved bodily harm. She merely took as far a step away as she could manage without knocking into anyone else.

He got the hint and pulled out of her space, but dove right back in with, “C’mon. Let me buy you a drink.”

“No, thank you. I am perfectly capable of buying my own drink.”

“Yeah, but it’s like the…” He trailed off and waved a careless hand, nearly knocking his own drink off the bar. “The principle of the thing. Or whatever.”

She didn’t know what he meant and had more than a sneaking suspicion he didn’t either, so she said nothing.

Undeterred, he asked “Are you waiting for someone?”

“Yes,” she said.

“A boyfriend?”

She didn’t know what to say to that. What difference did it make?

Apparently taking her silence as a no, he asked, “So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that I said no,” Shirayuki said firmly, trying to keep a tight leash on her temper. “Multiple times.”

He grinned, apparently pleased with her answer, and said, “You’re feisty. I like that.”

You cannot hit him. It would be a bad idea to hit him, Shirayuki reminded herself. Swallowing down her more feisty reactions, she thought about the situation logically. He wasn’t taking a hint. He wasn’t accepting overt denials. It would help to know why he was doing what he was doing. Maybe if she understood him a little better, she could fix the fundamental issue this guy so obviously had. And who knew? He might even turn into a friend before the night was over. She’d befriended less pleasant sorts before, after all.

She wouldn’t count Obi as one of the unpleasant sorts, but she knew he would. True, they met when he stole her identity and tried to ruin her life, but now look where they were! She could absolutely turn this interaction around with some gentle encouragement and a friendly ear.

*****

Ten minutes later, Obi appeared next to the shoulder the man - Bradley - wasn’t currently sobbing into. He placed a hand at the small of her back as he leaned around her to peek at Bradley’s tear-streaked face.

“I leave you alone for five minutes,” Obi teased her, rerouting her attention from patting this strange, sad man’s head to the person she’d been waiting for.

“I don’t know what happened,” she whispered. One minute she was asking Bradley why he felt the need to pressure women into drinking with him, and the next he was tearing up and telling her about how he felt unlovable so he used money and persistence to get women to spend time with him. He was currently in the middle of a story about his childhood dog. There was probably a connection there, but she was thankful her job at the moment was to listen, not to understand.

Obi simply laughed and slipped around her to duck under one of Bradley’s arms, heaving him up and off Shirayuki. Theoretically, she supposed, the move was supposed to put Bradley on his feet, but he looked like he was putting more weight on Obi’s side than his own legs. She watched Obi’s arm muscles tense under his henley to compensate for Bradley’s inability to stay upright at the moment. It was nice to see his gym membership was paying off.

“Come on, pal,” Obi said. “Let’s get you a Lyft and away from the nice, pretty girl.”

“She is nice,” Bradley agreed. “Do I know you?”

“Nope. But I know her.”

“You gotta protect her. She’s so pretty and single.”

“Single, huh?” Obi glanced over his shoulder at her, one eyebrow raised. Shirayuki sighed internally. He was going to tease her to no end for the rest of the night. There would be no normal conversation after this.

“I tried to wife her, but she didn’t want to.”

Shirayuki lost track of the conversation as the two plodded towards the exit. All she caught was half of Obi’s reply about better men failing something before they were swallowed by the crowd.

The situation with Bradly hadn’t even cracked the top twenty weirdest moments of her life, so she shrugged it off, took his newly-abandoned stool, and finally caught the bartender’s eye to order.

She was on her third (half) sip of her cider when she felt someone crowd into her space and reach around her to pluck what was supposed to be Obi’s beer off the bar.

“Excuse me,” Shirayuki said, gearing up to give the rude person a piece of her mind. The entitlement in this bar tonight was off the charts. When she spun on her stool and came face to face with Obi, all the fight left her at once.

“Oh,” she said. “It’s you.”

Obi raised his eyebrows at her over the rim of the glass.

“I thought you were stealing, well, your drink,” she explained. It didn’t quite make sense, but he must have gathered the gist because he nodded.

“My knight in shining armor,” he said, grabbing her drink off the bar and nodding for her to follow him to one of the tables. “Thank you for guarding my drink so diligently.”

Oh. Okay. Maybe he wasn’t going to tease her mercilessly after all. Nice, but weird. She’d been so sure he wouldn’t pass up the chance to talk about her kind face that just makes people want to open up to you, Miss.

She realized it was too much to hope for when he casually threw out, “So you’re single, huh?” as they slid into the booth they’d decided to claim for the night.

He watched her with an openly amused and slightly curious look as she tried and failed not to get annoyed all over again.

“He asked if I had a boyfriend,” she said. “I thought it would be a good chance to teach him that no means no, not, I’ve already been claimed means no.”

Obi nodded. “A noble endeavor.”

“Clearly it didn’t stick.”

“He did puke in the alley outside. I think it’s safe to say he was too wasted to function. I’m sure your lesson was presented very well. If he hadn’t taken up one of your arms crying on it, you probably could have whipped up a nice powerpoint, too.”

Should she have done that? He was joking, but maybe she should make one to have on hand in the future. A bright, colorful pie chart might-

“So, Miss,” Obi said, bringing her out of her head and back to the present, “do you come here often?”

She blinked at him.

“I mean, you must not,” he said. “I think I’d remember a pretty face like that.”

“What?”

Obi draped a casual arm across the back of the booth and let a playful smile tug at the corners of his lips. Voice deeper than it was a few seconds ago, he said, “Since you’re single, I thought I’d try my luck.”

It took her a moment to catch on. When she did, she said, “You realize you’re no better than Bradley, hitting on a stranger in a bar.”

Obi laughed, delighted.

“Of course you got his name,” he said. “Well, I’m hoping my attempt will be slightly more welcome. I’ve been told I’m quite handsome.”

Obi had a specific way of looking at her when he was feeling particularly mischievous. His expression would turn sly and his eyes would cut to her like he was inviting her in on the joke. A secret just for them. Though she’d made many friends since her lonely teenage years, it was that look from him that made her feel like she didn’t have to take on the world alone anymore.

But they weren’t taking on the world. It was just them. In a bar. Pretending to be different people for a while. And if she got to be any woman she wanted, she chose Kiki.

Trying for bored and unaffected, she said, “I’m more interested in a man’s personality.”

Obi clicked his tongue. “Can’t help you there.”

“Yes you can,” she said, immediately breaking character. “You have a wonderful personality.”

“And you are so bad at this,” Obi said on a laugh. “Honestly, Miss. We’ve only just met. How could you possibly know what my personality is like?”

“I, um- I’m really good at reading people?”

Obi let his chin fall to his chest in resigned disappointment. It didn’t do much to hide the curve of his smile, though.

“So bad,” he whispered to himself. Then, he looked up at her through his lashes and said, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“Already?” she asked, trying to stay immersed and not get distracted by, as he said earlier, how handsome he looked in the low light, relaxed and looking at her like he wanted her six ways to Sunday.

“I fall fast,” he said with a shrug.

“That must make life very difficult.”

“Eh. It’s worked out fine so far.”

*****

An hour later, when they’d worked their way through names, jobs, and hobbies - about which Obi invented increasingly elaborate lies and Shirayuki failed at least three times to stop herself from calling him out because, well, she was actually pretty bad at the game - they headed out into the cold October night.

“Can we stop by the grocery store on the way home?” Shirayuki asked before they were half-way down the first block. Suzu’s birthday was coming up and she wanted to make cookies.

“You know,” Obi said, taking her hand in his, “the point of pretending to be strangers at a bar is to also pretend you’re taking a stranger home. If you act like we already live together, it defeats the whole purpose.”

“You’re the one who insisted we didn’t know each other. I don’t want to take a stranger home. I just want you.”

Obi went quiet in that peculiar way he did when she’d said something he didn’t know he was allowed to have. In the year they’d been dating, and the many years they’d been friends, she’d learned to just wait out those moments.

Sure enough, he heaved a very put-upon sigh after a beat and said, “Fine, I guess I don’t want to take a stranger home, either.” The hand that tightened infinitesimally around hers said, I only want you, too.

#obiyukimadness22 #the working title on this was 'fake (not) dating'#fun fact i wrote this idea many years ago for another pairing and thought it would work for obiyuki so i dusted it off #but they're very different couples so in the process of reworking it to fit these two i basically kept nothing #and then that version ended really sappy and melodramatic so i re rewrote it and now i'm tired of looking at it #good luck everyone still in the game!#title from tswift because 'cried like a baby coming home from the bar' made me laugh #my fic #snow white with the red hair

32 notes · View notes

snowwhite-andtheknight · 3 years

Text

Announcing: Obiyuki Winter Challenge 2022

It’s been a long year for the second year running, and we here at the comm have felt exceptionally fortunate to have so many people keeping up with the breakneck pace of our challenges. So this year we thought we might do something a little different; something a little more low-key than our usual: and Guilty Projects Challenge.

From December 31, 2021 to January 2, 2022, we are giving you the opportunity to wrap up the WIPs in relegated to the darkest recess of your hard drives, or give you the excuse you need to get hopping on the project you’ve been waiting for. There are technically no rules for what these can be, other than that they must be obiyuki-- or at least part of an obiyuki work.

But since we know there is nothing quite so scary as an project where you can pick any topic, we’ve made some themes for the days along with some potential possibilities for how you might like to approach them. You may take those suggestions if you like, or you may disregard them entirely and just post what you’re working on-- there’s no wrong way to play when it comes to your Guilty Projects 😄

Day 1: Endings

An Obiyukiweek post you didn’t quite finish in time-- or never managed to start

The last chapter of a fic you keep putting off finishing

The final rendering of a sketch you always meant to go back to

Day 2: Beginnings

A space from an Obiyuki AU Bingo board (doesn’t have to be your own)

An idea you meant to use but never had the opportunity to work on it

A prequel to a piece you already posted

Day 3: Second Chances

A trope that never reached the Final Four in Trope Madness

And idea based on a past manga chapter that got jossed before you could get to it

A redo of a past work

Dates: December 31, 2021-January 2nd, 2022 Tag: #guiltyobiyuki22

[Guidelines beneath cut]

Guidelines:

All work must be your own (eg. no plagiarizing other sources, tracing, pose stealing, etc)

The main pairing is Obi x Shirayuki

Must be tagged #guiltyobiyuki22 within the first five tags

With Tumblr’s tagging system on the fritz, please also @ snowwhite-andtheknight in your entry

Please label with the day’s number!

All NSFW content must be tagged and under a Read More!

You may submit multiple entries for each day!

Be nice

Play hard

#guiltyobiyuki22 #obiyuki #Obi x Shirayuki #Akagami no Shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair

101 notes · View notes

kirayaykimura · 2 years

Text

Wrong (Apartment) Number

For Obiyuki Madness 2022 - I Will Find You

Obi hated his apartment complex. Sure it was within walking distance of work and had an in-unit washer and dryer, but the stairwell had no windows. Most people would think that was a petty thing to want to move over, but most people weren’t being hounded by an overly friendly coworker with no means of escape.

“And then she said she’d always wanted a pet monkey so I had to break up with her,” Yuzuri said, continuing the conversation Obi had stopped contributing to half a mile earlier. He could feel her right on his heels, obviously out of breath after six flights but doggedly pushing forward anyway. “So now I’m back to being in love with Garak from afar.”

“It’s probably for the best that you don’t get too close. She’d eat you alive.”

“But what a way to go.”

Obi snorted as he unlocked his door.

“Hey, so,” Obi said as she followed him right over the threshold into his apartment, “why are you here?”

“Because I’m brokenhearted about how Garak doesn’t love me back now that I’m newly single again. Weren’t you listening?”

“And I’m helping with that how?”

“By feeding me popcorn and alcohol and maybe watching a movie with me.”

“You’re shameless,” he said, to which she simply grinned. Aware he wasn’t getting out of this anytime soon (and secretly happy he wouldn’t have to spend his entire Friday night alone), Obi had one foot in his bedroom to change out of his work clothes before settling in on the couch with Yuzuri before he froze. There was a lump in his bed. A lump with red hair and wide eyes that looked as surprised as he felt.

“Oh,” Yuzuri stated. “There’s a girl in your bed.”

Obi leaned a shoulder against the doorframe and felt Yuzuri peek over his other shoulder to get a better look at said girl.

“So there is,” he said, casually crossing his arms over his chest and settling in for the explanation. This was not the first time an unexpected girl had popped up in his bed, but it was the first time he didn’t recognize her at all. He found himself very interested to see what on earth this girl’s story was going to be.

“Who are you?” the girl asked. She was clearly scared, but did a very good job of hiding it. Her voice was strong and commanding. The message was slightly undermined by the fact that her hair was mussed from what looked to be a very good nap and she was buried under his fluffy pink comforter, but he’d still give her brownie points for trying.

Obi raised an eyebrow and asked, “Do you really think you get to be asking that question?”

“Since this is my apartment, I think I have the right to know who’s breaking and entering.”

“Your-” Obi looked around, confused. She’d said it with such conviction that he wondered for a moment if he had walked into the wrong apartment. Wouldn’t be the first time. But no, that was definitely his garishly pink comforter. He glanced back at the kitchen where he found the distinctive chip in the linoleum by the sink. His drying rack still held one sad, solitary plate and a fork. (He had a dishwasher but never enough dinnerware to fill it with, so he ended up hand-washing on the days he had to microwave day-old take-out.) He turned back to B&E Girl and said, “Your apartment?”

“Yes,” she said imperiously. “Now, if you don’t mind, please leave and we can forget this ever happened.”

Baffled, Obi said, “Alright,” and silently shut the door.

“What are you doing?” Yuzuri asked. Now that the door was closed and there was no one to peek in on, she made her way into his kitchen and helped herself to the chips he had stashed in the cabinet to the right of his fridge.

Obi wondered how she unerringly found his food as he floundered for a response.

“Are you really going to let her take over your place like that?” Yuzuri asked. “You’re gonna let her be a squatter?”

“There’s no chance you’re going home, is there?”

“And miss this show? Absolutely not.”

She grabbed a sparkling water from the fridge Zen left behind the last (and only) time he’d visited, made a disgusted face, then carried it and the pilfered chips back to his couch to settle in.

Obi sighed. It was his fault for making friends at work.

Now for what to do about the girl sequestered in his room. He racked his brain trying to remember if he’d met her somewhere before, but he was positive the effort was moot. He made a point to remember beautiful women who might end up in his bed. The only other girl he could think of was some new person set to start on Monday. Zen had called about her in advance. Obi, take care of this one. She’s special.

“Shirayuki?” Obi ventured with a single, gentle knock at the door to let her know he was talking to her.

There was a pause from the other side, long enough that Obi figured he had it wrong, before Shirayuki said, “I have a knife,” with the barest hint of a tremor. She didn’t deny it and she was clearly scared, which meant he was right and she wanted to know how he knew that. Probably. Like, he was good at reading people but reading their voices were kind of a crapshoot.

Despite the poor girl’s fear, he couldn’t help but joke, “Well, I’m generally pretty good at dodging those.”

The end of his sentence morphed into an, “Hey,” as Yuzuri pelted him with a Dorito.

“She’s scared, you idiot,” Yuzuri stage-whispered at him after the third chip hit him directly between the eyes.

“She broke into my apartment and threatened me with a knife. Why aren’t I allowed to be scared?”

“You just said you can dodge those.”

“Go. Home.” He turned back to the door and said, “Zen told me you’d be coming. Asked me to keep an eye out for you. I’m Obi.”

“Obi?” A pause. “The messenger?”

“Not for about four years now, but yep, that’s me.”

Zen tended to forget little things like the passage of time. Obi hadn’t been a messenger in quite some time. Kiki had been married for two years. And yet, Zen was suspended in a sort of arrested development in which they were all still 21 and saw each other all the time. It was sweet in a way. It made spending time together challenging because I just saw you last month (it had been closer to six the last time he’d used that excuse), but when they did manage to find time to hang out it was like nothing had changed. He was still a workaholic. Obi was still a workaholic. Zen still blushed so prettily when Obi called him nice names. It was a bit of same-ness he could always count on, which was simultaneously pleasant and suffocating after a lifetime of personal upheavals and reinventions.

He heard the creak of his bedsprings, a soft padding of feet on his floors, and then she was there. She opened the door a crack and eyed him skeptically.

“You know Zen?” she asked.

Obi nodded. “We go way back.” He pointed over to Yuzuri, who was watching this all unfold with open curiosity. “That’s Yuzuri. Seems like you two will be working together soon.”

Shirayuki opened the door just far enough to stick her head out and peer over at Yuzuri.

“Hi, squatter,” Yuzuri said with a wave.

“Are you the botanist?” Shirayuki asked.

“Yep! Well, one of them.”

Shirayuki’s eyes went wide as she opened the door all the way and said, “I am so sorry.”

“Ah,” Obi said. “She finally believes us.”

“I thought-“ she cut herself off. “But then I was the one- oh no, I threatened you.”

Obi shrugged. “It’s fine. You didn’t actually hurt me. Unless you’re planning to stab me with one of those knives you’ve apparently got hidden on your person.”

Slowly, she admitted, “I don’t actually have a knife.”

He bit down on a smile and said, “You don’t say.”

“Wait,” Yuzuri said. “I still don’t get how you got in.”

“Yeah, how did you?” Obi asked. He was absolutely positive he’d locked his door. He’d also arranged a throw blanket over the safe in one of his bottom kitchen cabinets and folded it just so so that he’d be able to tell if anyone broke in and tried to, well, break in. (Old habits died hard.)

“I have a key?” Shrayuki’s voice rose slightly at the end, like even she was second-guessing her story at this point. She physically shook her head, strode across the room to her purse sitting on the little useless table by the front door, grabbed her keys, and held up one of them. “Here. I’ll show you.”

And show she did. The key went in the lock and turned the deadbolt without any force or jiggling. Like it was made exactly for that slot.

“Why would the complex give you a key to my apartment?” Obi asked, baffled.

Shirayuki looked back at him, clearly at an equal loss. She said, “Maybe they got confused like I did and gave me the wrong floor? I mean, I know that’s not how numbers work, but people make mistakes.”

“Mistake or not,” Yuzuri said, “we should check out your apartment and see if you can get in.”

“Oh, I don’t want to trouble you. I’ll be fine.”

Obi snatched her keys out of her hands on his way out the door and said, “Come on, criminal. I’m in this now, too.”

As they descended the stairs, Obi said, “I think I know what happened. I did the same thing when I moved in. Startled the old man above me pretty good walking right in on him. The landlord says our floors are numbered the European way, but I think the builders messed up and he didn’t want to pay to fix it. The first floor is Floor Zero. You live in 208 but it’s only-” he gestured upward, “-one set of stairs up.”

“Oh, like in France,” Yuzuri said.

“Have you ever been to France?”

“No.”

“Yuzuri.”

“What? I’ve never been to Egypt either but I know what the Pyramids look like.”

“I think she’s right,” Shirayuki said. “It is the way French buildings are numbered.”

Betrayed within seconds.

“Fine,” Obi said with a dramatic sigh, “but it’s still stupid because we’re not in France or Europe, so no one really gets the floor layout and it causes misunderstandings like this. Though it doesn’t explain the key thing because my key definitely didn’t work on the old man’s door.” He’d tried his key and found the knob turned even as his key didn’t. Turned out, Obi had just happened to come by during the short minute between the old man coming home with arms full of groceries and setting them down to have a free hand to lock up for the night.

It turned out fine. He and Gerald play gin rummy on Thursday nights now.

Finally, they made it to Shirayuki’s actual apartment door and confirmed that both her key and his unlocked her door. The three of them tilted their heads slightly to the right and said, “Huh.”

“Well, that’s not safe,” Obi said after a beat.

“No,” Shirayuki and Yuzuri said.

“Okay,” Obi said, wriggling his key off its ring. “I’m reasonably sure it’s just our apartments after my run-in with the fella above me, so why don’t you take my key as insurance I won’t burst in on you unexpectedly. I’ll call the landlord and have him change my locks.” He held out his newly-freed key, but she just frowned at it.

“How will you get into your apartment?”

“Not sure.” He shrugged. “I’ll find a way. It’s good, though. Keeps my skills sharp.” He waved his key tantalizingly in front of Shirayuki’s face. When she still refused to take it, he grabbed her hand and placed it into her palm. “If I really need my key back, I will find you.”

“Don’t feel too bad,” Yuzuri said. “I once watched him scale the side of the building at work just because he was bored. He’s a freak. You’ll be providing a service.”

Her fingers slowly closed over the key. Satisfied she wasn’t going to drop it or toss it back at him, he let his hand fall back to his side and gave her back her personal space.

“How will you find me?” Shirayuki asked. “You know, if you really need to get your key back?”

“He’ll be fine,” Yuzuri promised. “You’re just giving him the excuse he’s always wanted to shimmy up the drain pipe or whatever he daydreams about doing.”

“First of all, drain pipes are flimsy and horrible for climbing.” He only made that mistake…seven times. “Second of all, we work together now. I’ll find your desk.”

“Oh. Right.”

Shirayuki frowned like she still wasn’t completely convinced. It was fair; she’d never met Obi before and therefore had no idea that Yuzuri was right (not that he would ever admit that out loud) and he was actually pretty excited at the prospect of not being able to get into his apartment the conventional way. He was just trying to decide if he should offer to let her watch him scale the east side of the building when she asked, “Do you have a phone?”

“Like, in general, or…”

She gave him a look that said she was not in the mood to be messed with. It was such a shame (for her) that it made him want to do it more.

“On you,” she clarified.

“Ah. No.”

“Right.”

She nodded and pulled a pen out of her purse, then dragged his hand up to about chest height and started writing something on his palm. He was caught so off-guard that he almost tripped over himself, but managed to keep his feet planted just in time. Unlike when he’d grabbed her hand earlier, her grabbing his effectively pulled him in close enough that his chest was almost touching her shoulder. He was definitely close enough to smell her hair, which was pretty creepy and he very much wished he didn’t know she smelled like some kind of flower with just a hint of spice. He also wished Yuzuri would stop staring at him with her eyebrows raised, but the universe was apparently not taking his hopes and dreams into consideration tonight.

“Use that if you need your key back,” she said as she released him from her grasp. He lifted his hand to find eleven numbers written in a delightfully messy scrawl.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. He gave her a lazy salute, certain he would absolutely never use her number.

“I mean it,” she said, gaze serious and commanding. “I’m not letting you leave without a way into your home.”

This time when he said, “Yes, ma’am,” he meant it a little more. He’d probably never use it, but maybe he’d put it in his phone. Or write it on a post-it before it washed off in the bath. If anything, it would be a sweet reminder of the nice girl who didn’t know him at all but was still clearly worried about him anyway.

*****

Later, when he managed to finally ditch Yuzuri (he walked her to the station and made sure she got on her train safely), scale the building via fire escape (boring), and face plant into his bed (nice), he found his pillow smelled different. Lightly floral with the barest hint of spice. It took him a moment to trace the scent back to its source, but he grinned when he did. I had your girl in my bed last night was quite the opener for an email back to the boss, and he couldn’t wait to send it.

#obiyukimadness22 #suspend your disbelief at the door this one's wacky #though aren't all romcoms a little ridiculous?#this feels at least on par with the wedding planner's meet cute #obiyuki #my fic #snow white with the red hair

34 notes · View notes

realtacuardach · 2 years

Text

Entry for @snowwhite-andtheknight Obiyuki Trope Madness 2022: I Will Find You

Many thanks to Earnshaw (@longagoitwastuesday) for all the betaing and patience!

~~~

Ignoring the two sets of arms pulling him back, Obi strained forward to reach where his Miss stood, mouth gaping open and eyes wide. She cried out to him, which only made him struggle harder.

“Miss!” He yelled, feet scrabbling on the polished stone, cursing them for taking away his good boots - he should have been suspicious when they’d both been offered new shoes.

“Obi!” She called out to him again, as a sack was forced over the top of his head, obscuring his view and his options.

“Shirayuki!” He nearly bellowed through the fabric, and the gasp she made pierced through his heart and he heard her stumble backwards. What’s happening to her?

His feet slid out from beneath him and his captors began dragging him backwards, forcing him to wrestle even harder to fight their grip on his arms. “Stay alive,” he shouted, “I will be back! I will find you!”

She made a sort of choking sound, and then the heavy slam of the fortress door cut off any other connection with her. His hands, unable to grip on his captors’ arms enough to make any noticeable difference, began inching their way down to where he kept his dagger. He felt the hidden sheath beneath his tunic and cursed soundly under his breath when he found it empty.

“Underestimated us, did you?” One voice nearly crowed as they dragged him along.

The other voice grunted with exasperation. “Stop struggling!”

Obi considered the suggestion, and responded with more struggling. The second voice huffed, whereas the first voice simply laughed, albeit more breathlessly once they started pulling him down the stairs. Obi shared a few colorful phrases as his feet plummeted downwards with every other step.

They’d reached the bottom floor, and Obi allowed himself a moment too long to think about how to break their hold, unfortunately giving them the chance to bind his legs together. He could hear the men holding his arms groan and strain as someone walked up from behind him and chained his wrists and forearms together. Obi let his muscles slacken to appear less threatening as he was lifted off of the ground, brain whirring through potential escape strategies, before he was hefted into something that squeaked like the wheels of a cart, straw poking into his skin through his shirt and chains.

“Relax,” the voice laughed again, “and enjoy the trip!”

Something like a door slammed shut, although Obi could still hear the sounds of the courtyard, and ratting like chains echoed faintly before being cut off by the dull thud of a padlock clicking into place.

“See how much you enjoy it once I get out,” Obi muttered through the cloth, but the voice didn’t seem to hear him or pay him any mind. Horses whinnied, and Obi lurched forward.

And backward.

And sideways.

And possibly in circles.

For what felt like hours.

“If you’re trying to throw me off,” he grumbled, “it’s not going to work.”

If Miss had been with him, she likely would have advised him not to antagonize them. But she wasn’t, and that was the whole problem.

Conserving his energy, Obi laid languidly on the hay as the chains outside the cart rattled apart, and the door opened. He felt two sets of hands grab him and pull him into the chilly air before carrying him away from the cart and horses. He heard boots shuffle on stone, the sound reverberating a little, and then felt the men bend low before carrying him further downward into an echoing space of coldness and dampness.

Shifting his weight between them, the captors leaned down and pushed him into sitting in a corner. Hay crushed beneath him and he assumed a more comfortable position against the wall. The bag slid off his head, and he plastered his most cocky, nonchalant grin on his face.

“Well, this has been fun, guys. But I really can’t stay.”

The slighter of the two men snorted with amusement, while the taller man rolled his eyes, tossing the bag to one side of the enclosed space. “You don’t have a choice.”

Obi gritted his teeth, the smile now more pointed. Subtly, he tried to work his feet apart and cursed a little under his breath at the stoutness of the knots binding them.

The two men who brought him down left, the taller man calling for another guard to station himself outside the door. Obi looked around the holding cell, and his irritation rose, until it hissed out between his teeth in a snarl. The guard looked inside the cell and smirked.

“Relax,” he drawled, “your prince will be here to join you soon enough.”

Obi ignored him, instead reaching out for the cup on the ground near him. He turned it over and grimaced. Of course it was empty. Sweeping his bound arms around him, he felt around in the hay, long fingers splaying wide to better comb through it. The search yielded nothing more than a surprising quantity of small stones, none sharp enough to help him. However, throwing them at the doorway did noticeably fluster the guard at the door, so at least they weren’t completely useless.

The third pebble bounced off the back of the guard’s head, and he turned scowling to face Obi’s toothiest smirk. The guard walked out of sight of the cell bars and Obi could hear the steps echoing down the hallway. He continued tossing pebbles, listening to the small metallic ping and the annoyed groan of the guard. It took a few minutes for the guard to return back, and after having to dodge another pebble, it took even longer to return the second time. He continued to toss pebbles into the metal bars, even after the guard had stopped returning, seemingly placated by the continuous sound to not suspect him of anything besides being irritating.

With rhythmic, steady movements, Obi drove his shackles into a jagged ridge of stone sticking up from the holding cell floor. Timing it with the cadence of his previous pebble throwing, he felt the metal crumple, splinter, then break, and grinned with satisfaction at his two hands, still manacled but not together. He dragged the ragged metal ends of the shackles across the cords binding his legs, until they fell apart.

Creeping slowly toward the cell door, he slid his arms around the bars, stabilizing the torn ends of the shackles over the lock and jabbing it inside the mechanism. The guard, apparently fearing a pebble onslaught, still did not return and Obi appreciated that they didn’t think enough of his escape skills to bother chaining him to the wall.

Amateurs, he snorted to himself as he felt the lock click and the door swung open. He scooped the pebbles around the door into the cup and positioned it over the door, tilting it slightly. Pebbles slowly slid to the rim of the cup before beginning to fall, one by one, to the ground.

Obi stepped lightly as he crept through the dungeon and swept up the steps. Two guards on every floor, he noted as he ascended, and felt mildly offended that there weren’t more. Avoiding them rather than confronting them took more time, but his daggers and kunai were gone. Besides, injuring them would only cause complications.

He suppressed the urge to laugh, and felt cold air on his face. The first open window he’d seen in the blasted place loomed before him, and it beckoned to him. Obi smirked and jumped.

~~~

Peering forward into the gloom, Obi pushed aside the leafy branch of the tree he was perched in and squinted around the fortress. His feet, damp from the snow that had been falling, slid a little, but he planted his heels firmly in the grooves of the bark of the branch and continued looking. The fortress and walls looked quiet and still, guards standing resolute and slightly drowsy at their posts. Obi clicked his tongue thoughtfully, eyes skimming the surroundings until they stopped on a single lit window in one of the rooms on the top of the castle. It wasn’t quite in a tower, but it was close. Obi snorted.

A shiver wriggled down his back, where his tunic clung, damp and chilly, against his skin, but he fought it back. Initially, he’d only meant to be climbing trees at the very beginning of his escape, eventually making it down to the ground and running. But then, it started snowing, and leaving tracks in the ground became a very real possibility. Eventually, his pebbles were going to run out and they would wonder why he was finally quieting down. They’d check, and then the hunt would be on.

He had no intention of being caught. And he definitely had no intention of making it easy for them to try. So he’d remained airborne, leaping from tree branch to tree branch, and listening carefully for any stirrings of movement from the castle he swiftly left behind. Keeping from the more easily traversed roads, he kept to the shadows of the trees and the air as long as he could. Surely, they wouldn’t think he’d be that obvious, but he wasn’t going to take any chances.

And so now, after an hour of traveling through cold and snow, he had arrived. He flexed his fingers, trying to stretch out the numbness and chill for better grip. Swimming through that one creek might not have been his best idea, but it was quicker than taking the bridge, where guards likely had been stationed. He shook ice out of the bangs hanging in front of his eyes and looked closely at the base of the building beneath where the light shone.

Like a gift, a side gate was carved into the fortress wall surrounding the part of the castle with the lit window. Unfortunately, the side gate had two guards standing on either side of it.

Two drowsing, sleepy-looking guards.

Obi smirked.

Sliding like smoke down the tree trunk, he slunk through the remaining trees surrounding the castle, keeping to the patches not illuminated by torches, and darted across the clearing, stepping so lightly around the corner of the fortress that the guards barely stirred at his footsteps. He peeked around the stones to where the two men stood, yawning and bleary-eyed.

He raised his chilled fingers to his lips and blew a sharp whistle.

The two guards leapt to attention, hands reaching for more sturdy purchase on their spears, not paying heed to where their fellow guard was.

Obi winced in slight sympathy as the two men’s heads collided with a metallic clang, causing them both to slump to the ground. However, he shook it off to quickly grab the keys from one man’s belt and a dagger from the other’s, and went to work at the door. The gate clicked open with a swift turn of the rattling keys, and he pulled the keys free, dropping them on top of the unconscious guard’s slowly rising chest.

He closed the door behind him, and as he sprinted further into the fortress, he could hear people rushing to where the guards lay.

He was running out of time.

Obi stood below the lit window, craning his neck to get a better look. He felt the dagger in his hand and wished he had his own instead. Looking at stones in the castle wall, he scowled. He wished he had grabbed two daggers instead of just the one, but the keys saved him time. Feeling for the deepest groove in the stones above his head, he drove the dagger into it with a decent amount of force and reached his other hand slightly higher onto a protruding stone.

And pulled up.

Obi fell into a steady pattern of stabbing, reaching, pulling, stabbing, reaching, pulling. The numbness sunk deeper into his flesh and bones, and he gripped harder into the rough edges of stones to innervate his fingers. He climbed toward the light, the warmth from the window buffering him from the sharp winds plastering his clothing to his body. Pull by pull, he drew closer to the window, closer to her.

Finally, he curled his fingers around the ledge. He left the dagger wedged in the groove by her window, and reached with one hand up to grab the wooden frame and swing it open. Couching in the window, he let out a long sigh of relief. “Hello–”

A shriek echoed in the room and a bundle of cloth flew towards his face, nearly causing him to stumble backwards.

“Oh, Obi!” Miss cried out apologetically, rushing over to him, and he felt her warm embrace around his waist through the wet clothes and the fabric still hanging from his face. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize it was you.”

“That’s okay, Miss,” he laughed, soaking in her presence, holding her close.

“You’re freezing!” She gasped, running her hands over his arms, making him shiver, albeit much more pleasantly. “What happened?”

“I’m fine, Miss,” Obi assured her, reaching around and clasping one of her hands in his own. “Come on, let’s get–”

The door to the chamber opened, and Obi’s heart sank.

He heard a familiar snort. “Why am I not surprised?”

Obi reached up to grab the cloth from his face, which gave the owner of the familiar voice a chance to get between him and Shirayuki. “You should know,” he replied, straining to get around the person obstructing his view of his Miss, “that nothing would keep me away.”

Kiki rolled her eyes with amusement as she smoothly ushered Shirayuki around the changing screen before standing in front of her, arms crossed. “Really, Obi? You couldn’t go one night without seeing her?”

Clasping his hands to his heart, Obi gazed at her beseechingly, looking betrayed. “How could you be part of this?"

“You know it’s bad luck to see the bride the night before the wedding,” Kiki retorted. “Now, out!”

“Come on, Miss Kiki,” Obi gave her his most sincere, pitiable look, “please?”

Kiki shook her head, smirking. “Sorry, Obi. Save that look for Zen and Mitsuhide, you’re going to need it.”

Mitsuhide’s voice could be heard bellowing at least one floor beneath them, and Obi whipped around, looking for an escape. He looked at Kiki, pleading one last time. “Hide me?”

Kiki pushed him out the door. “See you tomorrow morning, Obi!”

“Bye, Obi!” The mistress of his heart distinctly sounded like she was holding back laughter as he was banished from her chambers. She would need to make this up to him later.

“Obi!” Mitsuhide’s bellowing continued, tempered by Zen’s exasperated laughter.

Obi weighed his options.

And leaped out the nearest window.

#obiyukimadness22 #i will find you #akagami no shirayukihime #ans #snow white with the red hair #obiyuki

24 notes · View notes

sabraeal · 2 years

Text

Truth in Masquerade, Chapter 7: In Wine, Truth

[Read on AO3]

Obiyuki Trope Madness 2022, Semifinal #1: Fake Relationship

Beneath his damasks and his silks, his brocades and his cambrics, Milan is warm. “I must thank you, cousin.”

Not that Shirayuki expected to find him a dead fish beneath her fingertips, but there is a remove in his manner, a hesitation between thought and action that reminds her at times of Kiki-- perhaps even Izana, when that smile of his gives a clever curl. There’s a coolness beneath his cheerful facade, a reticence to be known. But as her palm stretches over the fine linen of his shirtsleeve-- we are family are we not? he laughed as his coat slumped over the elegant chair back. There’s no need for such formality, not on a night as fine as this-- heat radiates through it, the way it did through her father’s.

It’s almost a shock when his hand closes over hers and there’s not a single callus, not a single hint of a working hand. But maybe, in time, she’d find that an equal comfort as well. “Oh?”

“I had a delightful evening.” His mouth parts on a satisfied grin. “Surprisingly.”

“I...” would have, if I knew where Obi was. She hesitates, the truth dangling from the tip of her tongue. “We should do this again.”

His smirk smooths to a softer cousin, thumb brushing over the ribbed rise of her knuckles. It’s soothing-- or rather, it’s supposed to be. Her nerves jangle at the closeness, shoulders longing to flinch. She stifles it.

Soon, she would know him better. Soon, his easy affection would be as familiar to her as Suzu’s, or even Obi’s. Enjoying it would become first nature instead of second thought. But not yet.

“I agree.” His shoulder bumps into hers, playful; the way they might have if they were childhood companions, used to bending their heads together. The way they should have been, had her father and his uncle ever reconciled. “Maybe you will invite me next time.”

Shirayuki blinks. “To your own dinner?”

Laughter bounds across the room, bright and buoyant; the sort that bubbles out rather than expels. Shirayuki glances over her shoulder; there must be some servant her eyes have drifted over, a footman that she’s been too distracted to see. For surely, it cannot be--

No, but it is. That joyful sound spills from Milan’s mouth, like champagne overflowing its glass.

Artless, Eisetsu called her once, fondly. She must look it now, her mouth hanging open, eyes country wide. But surely her cousin cannot blame her, not when this is the first genuine noise he’s made in their short acquaintance. The first of many, she hopes.

“No, Shirayuki.” Even now his words stumble over his good humor, as wriggling and eager as puppies escaping their kennel. “To yours.”

Her jaw drops, slack. “O-oh. I...”

It had never crossed her mind that she might entertain at Tanbarun. Compared to her room in the dorms, a private bath and parlor seemed the height of luxury-- but these were only guest quarters, hardly the full compliment of rooms provided in the residential wing. A visiting pharmacist hardly needed more. But a margravine...

She shakes her head. The last thing she needs is to use that title where Raj’s father could hear. The room has a terrace, one with a fine view of the gardens-- Raj would allows her no less, as his special guest. Making it into a table fine enough for titles to sit around might take some elbow grease, but it’d be a cold day in Yuris before she’d let that get her down.

Ah, but there was that, um, one other problem...

“I’ll have to ask Obi about it.” Convince him, really. But Milan would take far too much joy from that little bit. “It would take a little doing.”

His smile cants knowingly. “Do not put yourself out, cousin, I was simply teasing. You know that I am happy enough to play host to your every wh--”

“No.” Ah, it comes out too firm, as if he’s a student rather than a cousin. But still, it makes him straighten, gazing down at her with wide eyes of his own. “It’s a fair enough request. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Really, you...” Milan hesitates, his smile uncertain. “I will look forward to it.”

Shirayuki nods. “Please do.”

His pace lingers as they reach the hall. Reluctant, almost, as he cups his palm over hers.

“I hope,” he murmurs, lifting her hand from his arm and into his own. “That if you cannot receive me here, cousin, you consider me as your first guest when you have settled at home.”

Again, she blinks, tilting her head for good measure. “You mean in Clarines?”

It would certainly be a shock for him. To see a blood relative of his living in a single room, mingling with the scholars at the commissary, sharing a bathroom-- well there would be no way to explain it, not to someone like Milan. How could he possibly understand what it was to spend a morning in the pharmacy before rushing back to the lab, working until even the moon found the hour too late? To only have time for a quick wash before falling face-first onto a mattress?

Impossible. And to say that his very own cousin has spent enough days without a place to rest her head that even a single room seems a luxury...surely he could never understand. Zen hadn’t when she told him of those desperate days making for the border, all on foot with no friendly face to greet her when she arrived elsewhere.

Thankfully, Milan spares her.

“No, my darling.” He pats her hand, too kind. “I mean your estate.”

Shirayuki stares. “My...”

“You do mean to visit, don’t you?” His smile is all sunny when he tells her, “I’ve heard the orchards at Entaepode are particularly divine this time of year.”

(For all that the days drag now that they’ve arrived in this pretty little trap-- and their nights too, even if he’s the only one between them that lays awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to her kitten snores and thinking far too much-- Miss’s jaw still drops when he asks, “So what are you going to do with the spoils?”

“Spoils?” Her voice cracks; he stifles a grin. “What do you mean?”

“His Majesty gave you a title,” Obi reminds her, so innocent, though he valiantly decides batting his eyelashes might be too much. “That usually comes with perks.”

“Perks?” she echoes, uncertain. Miss must be in a whole other country when it comes to this line of thought; he hasn’t even tried to be outrageous yet. “You mean marrying Raj?”

“No, Miss, I definitely do not mean marrying Prince Raj.” It’s a temptation to tease her-- why settle for marrying well when that title of yours could get you an experienced and entirely inappropriate lover?-- but that’s a dangerous road to forge down with someone like Miss.

Sure, she might blush and flap her hands and protest just the way he likes, but it’s equally likely she’ll turn to him with that sweet face set stern and say, there’s nothing inappropriate about you Obi.

It’d be a new angle on an old argument to be sure. One they’d had before every soiree in Lyrias, when she inquired if he’d be asking any of the North’s fine young debutantes to dance. It’d been a question that got funnier every year-- as if any of these mamas would hitch their pedigreed mares to his aging cart-- but Miss hadn’t thought so. Any lady would be lucky to catch your eye, she’d tell him again, title or no.

He won’t survive it, hearing it again. Not when any lady would turn to I, and it would sound like-- like--

She could want him. That would please him in a different way, give him hope that maybe...maybe...

Haah. Even just thinking about that hurts. “I meant that titles come with things like positions. Or land. Estates.”

“Oh,” she hums, her curiosity banked. “You mean responsibilities.”

The fruit hangs too low for him to resist plucking it. “Why, Miss, are you complaining about your duty? I have to write to Suzu right away--”

“I’m not complaining!” She waves her hands at him, as if that’s ever warned him off from a joke as good as this. “It’s just...I have responsibilities already. A duty. And it’s not here.”

There’s something raw in her words, something that savors of a bear that’s taken one too many pokes, and Obi sits, balanced on the back of her sofa.

“I have classes to teach.” Her hands curl into fits, clutching at her too-fine skirt. “I have experiments I left running, and even if Ryuu is overseeing them, it can’t be forever. I have to help Yuzuri the next time one of the novices ruins a greenhouse, and I-- I want to go home. I have so much holding me in Clarines, I don’t need to be held here too.”

He leans in, knees knocking at her shoulder. “You don’t want to be held here, you mean.”

“I...” Politeness wars with honesty in her eyes; long and hard enough that she looks away before she answers, “No. I don’t want to have anything here to keep drawing me back. Except friendship. I can handle that duty.”

His mouth twitches. “Because Prince Raj is best handled in small but occasional doses.”

Her elbow nudges his calf. “Oh, come on, he’s not that bad.”

“Anymore.”

“Anymore,” she agrees. Her head tilts back beside his thigh, eyes clenched shut. “What am I going to do?”

There’s no good answer-- at least, not one they’ll both agree on-- so he just grins, sly enough that her eyes open in suspicion.

“Look on the bright side, Miss,” he tells her, far too sunny for a storm like this. “The wine’s always better on this side of the border.”)

It’s strange how empty the halls can feel when there’s only her walking down them. The carpets are plush, and the paintings and tapestries on the walls still jockey over every inch, but Shirayuki could swear that her breath echoes as she walks, chasing the muffled clack of her heels. She’d been too polite to roll her eyes when Obi told her how dangerous it was to walk these corridors alone, how exposed, but now-- now she feels naked, even fully clothed.

There’s no reason for it. She paces the halls of Wilant at all hours, and never once thought twice at being alone in Wistal. But here, in Tanbarun, there’s a target painted on her back, the way there never was in Clarines. Well, not since Obi stopped aiming at it.

Any moment she expects Obi to peel from the shadows, dress blacks buttoned all the way up to his neck, like wool and propriety could be armor too. Not the slightest bit of it would be wrinkled as he fell silently into step, the very picture of a concerned bodyguard-- or attentive lover, he would insist, mouth cocked. Oh, he’d certainly have things to say about dinner: the competence of the dishes, the ambiance of the terrace...the position of Milan’s hands in relation to her person. Things he couldn’t possibly know unless he’d been nearby. Ah, how he’d revel in telling her where he hid, how much he could hear, but--

But he never materializes. Not when she takes her first steps into the hall, nor during any point of her long walk back to her rooms. Even when she gets to her own door, he’s absent, not even his scent lingering in her rooms.

“Obi?” she calls out, voice trembling in the dark. She should light the lamps, something to keep the shadows from pressing too tight around her, to chase them back into their corners. Worry claws at her throat, a creature trying to gain purchase, trying to flee--

A squawk breaks through the night. A familiar, Obi-shaped one.

Her eyes narrow as she approaches the adjoining door. It’s far from her nature to keep silent, but her footsteps are swallowed whole by the carpet, making her approach as quiet as any sneak thief’s. Not that it matters; she could have an entire six band parade, complete with acrobats and elephants, and still it would have made less noise then the scene she finds.

“Don’t let me fall!” the prince and heir of Tanbarun yelps, sprawled across Obi’s back, long limbs practically choking him. “Eugena isn’t ready to rule!”

“I’m not--” Obi’s jaw dropping as he catches sight of her slippers, then her skirts, then-- “Miss. I can explain.”

“I cannot,” she says, eyeing the sprawl of shirts and sleeves across the floor, “guess how.”

Obi has to admit that Miss may have a point. “You see,” he attempts, wincing when the words slur. Ah, he should have said no to that fourth bottle. “His Highness started it.”

Miss does not reply, not in words. Oh no, she leaves that to her eyes, glaring at him with the sort of disappointment she usually keeps on a high shelf, just for Suzu. And the noise she makes, well...maybe another bottle might take the sting from it.

“Shirayuki,” Raj slurs, arm pulling tight around to make him gag. “You’ve arrived! We should celebrate.”

With a look so dry deserts would weep, Miss remarks, “It looks like you’ve already started without me.”

“My apologies!” Raj topples from his back, rolling onto the sofa with a deafening crunch. “I am but a creature of jollity, and I must spread it everywhere I go! Especially now that you have returned.”

Well, if anything’s broken it’s springs, not ribs. One thing he can finally be glad of. Even if breaking Tanbarun’s heir might be a quicker way to make an exit from this place, the king’s hope for a royal engagement long forgotten. Certainly better for his peace of mind than-- than--

Miss sweeps up beside him, an ankle flashing beneath her voluminous skirts, and he bites back a groan. That fifth bottle is looking better and better.

“How much having you been celebrating?” Miss approaches the word on eggshells, like a single wrong step will send it-- and them-- scattering to the four winds. She’d be right, if his princeliness was in any shape to do anything other than lay prone. “I see an empty bottle.”

It seems Miss must have attended the same classes on diplomacy as His Majesty; the “that can’t be it” remains unsaid, but thoroughly implied by the bracing look she fixes on him. One that also clearly communicates that’ll he’ll be giving her An Accounting before the night’s end.

He smothers a grin. Wouldn’t do to let her know he’s looking forward to it, after all.

“Oh, not to worry,” Raj assures her, arm flailing wildly toward the door, like the capital’s drunkest dancer. “It’s only that the footman hasn’t come yet. He’ll gather it up tout suite, just like the others.”

Obi could strangle him if it wouldn’t cause an immediate succession crisis. Or be the inciting event to put Rona’s ass end anywhere near the throne.

Miss must restrain herself; it’s the only explanation for how she strangles her shriek down to a range human ears can hear. “Others?”

“Four others,” His Highness informs her blithely, oblivious to her glare. A luxury he can only claim since it isn’t pinned to him. Oh no, it’s Obi who’s on her corkboard now, about to be preserved for posterity. “But do not let yourself feel even a shade of concern, Shirayuki, for Shenezard’s cellars are as deep as our pockets! I’ll have them bring out the best vintage just for you.”

Miss shakes her head,fingers braced on the bridge of her nose. “You are--”

“Too kind, I know.” He pats her hand, or at least he tries; each one ends up being more of a sloppy whack than the last. “Just give me but a moment to rest my eyes, and I’ll call one of my men up here in a...a snap.”

The next king of Tanbarun giggles, the way only the insensible can. With one last thrust of lucidity, his finger snap, loud as a thunder cap, and then they collapse straight to his chest, breath eliding into a snore.

Miss’s mouth purses, like a matron with her allowance. Only instead of money, Miss is short on patience.

“I already sent for Sir Sakaki.” Miss hasn’t fixed such a look on him since he got Ryuu thoroughly sussed a year ago at his coming-of-age.

(”I understand that boys need secrets,” Miss murmurs, letting the door to the privy swing half shut behind her. For a good solid minute, he’s sure the storm has passed, but before she can open her mouth, retching echoes out from the tile, louder than his own heartbeat. “But did you really think you keep me from knowing about this?”

“To be fair.” Ah, this is not going to be his best defense, he can already tell. The words slosh around in his mouth more wildly than the booze in his belly. “If he’d followed the rhyme I taught him, you wouldn’t have.”

“It’s the cocktails,” Suzu volunteers helpfully, slumped against the wall. “They never tell you what’s in ‘em!”

“See?” Obi thrusts back his hand; a little too hard since it connects palm-first to Suzu’s head. “Cocktails.”

She heaves a great big sigh, wearing Mister’s patented, I’m not upset I’m just disappointed face. “Well, I hope Garrack sees it your way too.”

“Garrack Gazelt?” Suzu squeaks, as if there were any other.

“That’s right.” Her arms fold, eyes glinting with a sick sort of satisfaction. At least that’s what it looks like as he withers under it. “Because you’ll be the one writing to explain the public indecency charge.”

“Aw, but Miss,” he sighs, “vomiting is perfectly decent...”)

Miss settles back on her heels, the prince’s hand flopping onto his stomach, rattling beneath his snores. “That doesn’t explain the shirts.”

He glances down, eyeing the tangle of linen at his feet. “Well, it got hot in here. His Highness insisted.”

She hums, dubious. “I’m sure.”

Obi sweeps up what he’s reasonably sure his his own shirt, sliding it on over his head as he perches on the other end of the sofa. Its arm is hard against balls of his feet, slippery too with only socks for purchase, but he leans over the prince anyway, getting a good enough view to see all the way to his tonsils.

“Don’t worry, Miss. He’s in his healing sleep.” He grins as he assures her, “If he’s going to void the contents of his stomach, it won’t be until he gets back to his own commode.”

“Lucky Sakaki,” she mutters, hands hooking around her hips. “And I’m supposed to believe you just...found him like this?”

“Of course not!” Her presses a hand to his chest, ankles wobbling beneath him. Alright, maybe the fourth bottle was a bit much. “I assure you I was the one that got him piss drunk, all under my special care. The wine was his though.”

Her lips pull thin, and all at once his thoughts collide, bent on coaxing them out of hiding, making her soft beneath him, melting into his arms--

Ah, he’s-- he’s definitely had a bit too much.

“So,” he says, giving her a smile bright enough to make his cheeks ache. “How was dinner?”

Obi may perch like a particularly soused gargoyle, but Shiryauki does not miss the point concealed in his pleasant tone, the sharp glint in his golden gaze. Even deep in his cups, he’s alert, playing a game she’s only half learned. Not for the first time, she wonders what he could have become if Zen hadn’t taken him in, if he had sworn himself to a master that would hone that edge rather than keep it sheathed.

“Fine.” She winces; what a way to damn a man by faint praise. Obi’s brows jump and inch, scar crumpled in the first shades of his satisfaction. “I mean, good. Well. Milan is very...”

Affectionate. Her teeth snap around the word. The last thing she needs is Obi reminding her about kissing cousins and how the court of Tanbarun manages to keep their bloodlines so pure.

“Very...?” he prompts gleefully. Ah, she is taking far too long with her adjectives.

“Generous,” she decides. It’s close enough to what she means anyway. “And, erm, entertaining?”

Obi snorts. “I’m sure.”

He’s far too self-satisfied for being two drinks shy of pitching face-first onto a prince. It’s only right that she adds, “He missed you, by the way.”

That gets a yelp from him, his balance swinging wildly as gets his feet beneath him. “Me?”

“You,” she agrees, mouth twitching. “He asked after you quite a few times. He even asked me where I thought you might be.”

Shadows hang dreadfully onto his face as he huffs, arms hooked over his knees. “Only because he wanted to know if he could bat his eyelashes at you in peace.”

There’s no need to tell him he’s right. Not when it will make him absolutely insufferable. “He was quite surprised when you weren’t waiting in the hall.”

“I would have been there, if it wasn’t for...” In a blink, he’s sober, staring at her with a intensity that makes her stomach careen straight into her ribs. “You didn’t walk back alone, did you?”

Guilt stokes the heat beneath her skin. “Ah...well...”

“Miss.”

Obi unfurls to his full height, slipping off his perch to stand nearly a whole head above her. He doesn’t loom-- he never does, not over her, unless it’s a peek over her shoulder-- but even at a distance he’s larger than she remembers, more solid. When he’d grabbed her hand in the gardens years ago, he’d been all limb, just mischief and sinew wrapped in skin, but now--

Ah, well, it seems those hearty Lyrias dinners have paid off after all.

“Don’t tell me you came back all on your own.” She doesn’t even muster a reply; one look at her face and his brow knots, giving him purchase to pinch it. “With things as they are? Miss...”

“Nothing happened,” she’s quick to assure him, for all the good it does.

“That’s not--” his thumb rubs at the arch of his eye, the place all his headaches come to roost-- “that’s not the point, Miss. We’re in not in Clarines anymore, and the king’s painted a target straight on your back. And Master...”

His mouth clenches tight, quickly covered by his hand. He may not say it, but she knows: though no announcement had ever been made, her and Zen’s relationship was Wistal’s poorest kept secret. And what Wistal knew, so did Tanbarun. Their understanding had afforded her some form of protection, and with it removed--

Well, she had only her titles to save her. Titles plenty of the peers in this court would be happy to see her divested of as quickly as possible.

“You know,” he says, tone deceptively light. “I would have thought your most attentive cousin would have leapt at the chance to walk you back.”

(”It seems your knight in not in evidence.” Milan may pride himself on subtlety, but there is no secret in the way his mouth cants at the empty hall, too pleased. “A shame.”

“He’ll be here,” Shirayuki insists, even as her stomach clenches, twisting itself into knots, each more complex than the last. “I’m sure he’s on his way.”

Milan is not big, not the way Mitsuhide is-- or even Suzu, even if it’s only in one dimension-- but as he steps up to her, her hand trapped between his two larger ones, he feels twice her size. “Why wait? I’m perfectly capable of seeing you safely to your rooms, cousin.”

He’s right: there’s no reason for her to idle like a child lost in the market, waiting for her mother to come fetch her. But still she cannot lift her heels, cannot take his arm and let herself be led.

“I couldn’t possibly trouble you,” she blurts out, social graces as left-footed as her dancing. “Really--”

“It’s no trouble at all.” There’s no change to his smile; it’s still easy, heavy with mischief, but-- but there is something stiff in the wave of him, something sharp as it cuts through the air. Impatient. “Besides, if you cannot impose upon family, cousin, who can you impose upon?”

Shirayuki turns her head, mumbling, “I try not to at all,” into her shoulder.

It’s not nearly quiet enough. His brows raise, flirting heavily with the part of his hairline. “Shirayuki, really--”

“I think,” she says, too loud as she slips her hand from his, “I’ll just go myself!”)

“Well,” Shirayuki hedges. “He did try.”

“Not hard enough.” Obi snorts, so loud that Raj flops over, grumbling in his stupor. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think your dashing cousin was just as eager to relieve you of your title as your less subtle ones.”

“But you do.” When he blinks, too slow for sobriety, she adds, “Know better. About my cousin.”

His mouth rucks up into a pout, but still, he nods, begrudging every inch. “I looked into it.”

There’s no use trying to tame her brows as they bid for her hairline; if she did, Obi would only know a hundred more ways to read her skepticism. “You did? Over dinner?”

It’s not that she thinks it’s impossible; Obi has made a career of tracking down information in days that Zen has spent months trying to uncover-- he’d complain about it in his letters, the way he did when he was secretly pleased. But considering his company and their collective intoxication...it’s improbable.

Raj shifts again, snores ceasing with a choked snuffle before picking up with increased vigor. If the gaze she fixes on the prone prince is pointed, verging on dubious, then, well, perhaps it’s earned.

Obi doesn’t so much sigh as grimace; a sure sign he’s been thoroughly caught. “I asked Sleeping Beauty here.”

With the way Raj had admitted to arranging his seating plan to put her directly in Milan’s path, Shirayuki hadn’t been under the impression that Obi would be willing to take his opinion. “Directly?”

His eyes roll, two coins flashing in the lamplight. “As direct as anyone can ever approach a conversation with His Highness here.”

She blinks, eyeing the bottle sprawled on the carpet. “Did you--?”

“The wine was his idea!” Obi yelps, waving his hands. She wonders if he notices how his body sways in suite. “Like I said, he just showed up with it and wanted to...” He draws up short, brow knotted. “Huh. I don’t know if he ever said. I think he just wanted to get me drunk.”

“Maybe you’ve just forgotten,” she offers, the less worrying option. It’d be one thing if Raj had just mistaken Obi for a close friend, one that would be an equal partner in his petty debaucheries, but it’s been a long time since Raj has been the boy that fainted in brothels, or found himself drunk with the best courtesy titles in the country. If he came with no real objective, then perhaps, perhaps--

He had his own motives. Ones that were unknown and, with the way his mind worked, unknowable.

“But you said Raj told you something--” coherent?-- “helpful about Milan?”

(”You know,” Raj muses as the bottle clinks against the glass, “if I were a more suspicious man, I’d say you’re trying to change the topic.”

Obi frowns at the wine the dribbles on the floor as he pulls back, bottle on its last dregs. That might be a cause for worry, if he wasn’t so sure the Shenezard supply ran whole caverns deeper. “But?”

Raj laughs. No, the prince does, deeper, more resonant, and more carefully careless than Obi has ever heard from him before. A stranger in the body of a...somewhat friend.

“But,” he hums, swirling the wine around his glass. “I’ve always been thirstier than I have been suspicious.”

Obi grins, more teeth than humor. “Lucky me.”)

His cheeks flush; however much they drank between them, it has to be far too much for Obi’s skin to show it. “Eventually.”

With a wobbling grace, he lowers himself to the table, knee knocking into her shoulder. “He may not have it now, but he’s in line for Count Salonika, and gets a hefty allowance to keep him happy about it. And unless there’s been a few more kissing cousins that we know about--” his eyebrow waggle, obscene-- “he’s no where close to putting his ass on Entaepode’s cushions. Far as he’s concerned, you becoming margravine couldn’t be a better windfall.”

The knot in her chest eases. “See?”

Obi clucks, mouth pulled tight into a grimace. “C’mon, Miss, don’t act like you knew. You have enough relatives trying to put poison in your porridge, what’s one more?”

Shirayuki turns to him then, and she can’t help it, she grins. Just the smallest bit. “You wanted him to have ulterior motives.”

“Miss, be fair.” He presses a hand to his chest, utterly put-upon. “I still think he has ulterior motives. They just aren’t to see you face down in your dinner.”

“If he meant to, he had the perfect opportunity tonight.” It’s not as comforting a thought aloud as it was in the confines of her head. “And here I am.”

“Here you are.” This close she can see a spray of green circling his pupil, a faint patina on that flawless expanse of gold. “Did he says anything interesting, at least? Try to woo you into one of those marriages these nobles like so--”

“No!” A laugh slips out of her, unwanted. The last thing she needs to do is encourage this sort of speculation. “We mostly talked about you.”

The scar biting into his brow wrinkles, folded in on itself like paper. “Me? Please tell me you’re kidding, Miss.”

“It’s true,” she insisted, leaning an elbow over his knee. He’s warm-- warmer than he was in Lyrias. An effect of the alcohol, most likely. “I wasn’t joking when I said he asked after you. He even grabbed my hand--”

The scar disappears, but then again, so does Obi’s smile.

“It sounds worse than it is!” If anything, this only makes his mouth pulls tighter. His muscles coil beneath his buckskins, thighs tense and ready to spring. “Really, it was nothing at all, just a friendly touch.”

“Friendly?” he repeats, a more dubious echo.

“Yes! You see--” she rises up on her knees, catching his hand between both of her-- “just like this.”

Her breath catches as she looks down; the position of their hands might be the same, but that’s where the similarities end. Milan’s hands had enveloped hers, soft and sweet-scented, but hers are far too small, too slender. They might as well be lace from how much they cover, so pale against the warm bronze of his skin. And his hands are not soft, calluses catching against her own; a delicious shiver trembling through her at the touch.

“Miss.” His breath huffs across the skin of her cheek, incredulous. “You’re far too trusting.”

“What--?”

“Whossat?” Raj harrumphs, turning over beside her. She glances back, catching a single fluttering open, but--

But Obi’s hand-- his free one, not the one in her grasp, a point that seems important for no reason at all-- reaches out. The motion catches her eyes, the way light does a moth, her attention darting back just as his palm cups her cheek.

It’s warm too, but that pales in comparison to heat in his eyes, shadows darkening gold to honey as he leans in and--

And kisses her.

#obiyuki #obiyukimadness22 #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #truth in masquerade #trope: fake dating #my fic #ans #I dithered about where to cut this chapter #there was at least 2K more of POLITICS and shit #but then i was like #listen i could do that BUT consider i get another more IMPORTANT side plot started >:3c

23 notes · View notes