#Centennial Tower | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lydiadeetzgf · 4 months ago

Text

Invisible String

Oscar Tully x Blackwood!reader

summary: This is the story of Benjicot's younger sister and Oscar Tully. Some would say it was of coincidence, others would say it was fate.

word count: 1.4k

warning: fluff

Author’s note: please let me know what you think of this in the comments! I’m always open to feedback!

Green was the color of the grass Where I used to read at Centennial Park I used to think I would meet somebody there

Blackwood Vale consisted of Raventree Hall and the Godswoods, with a large green pasture in between. The lofty, old stone walls of Raventree are covered in moss. The gate is flanked by two enormous square towers, and there is a square tower at each corner of the wall. It is further protected by a stone-lined, deep moat. There is a large timber keep and a filthy outer ward inside the walls. The solar of Lord Blackwood in the keep is spacious and bright, with enormous dark oak beams. Its walls are covered in wool tapestries, and its latticework doors, which have yellow glass windows fashioned like diamonds, gaze out over Raventree Hall's godswood. It has a chair with a high back. There is a massive, ancient, dead weirwood within the godswood. Hundreds of ravens arrive every evening around sunset and spend the entire night roosting on the dead weirwood, just as they have done for countless years. There is a view of two of Raventree's gates from a height overlooking a stream close to the castle.

Her father had asked her that day to get her brother Benji from the grounds by the Godswoods as it was time for their supper. Just nine name days y/n walked down the green pasters with her black dress with ravens embraided on the bottom. As she walked closer, she saw her Benji, who was only two-name days older than her, training with his friends. The two boys were her brother’s age. One had curly hair, the other straight.

“Benji!” She shouted getting her brother and the boys’ attention, causing them to stop fighting.

“What?!” he shouted back rolling his eyes that his little sister was disturbing them.

“Father says it’s supper and that you need to come back.” y/n said coming closer to face him.

“Fine.” Benji started to gather his things. Y/n could feel eyes watching her as she face her brother. Once Benji gathered his things he place his hand protectively on her back gently pushing her back to Raventree Hall.

“Are you going to introduce us to your sister Benji?” The boy with straight hair asked smirking, “It would be rude not to.”

Y/n glanced to see Benji rolled his eyes and slowly turned to face the boys. She too turned to see them. The boy with curly hair stared at the girl with admiration in his eyes causing her cheeks to turn red.

“Y/n this is Kermit and Oscar Tully.” Benji gestured to both the Tullys, “Kermit and Oscar, this is Y/n my little sister.”

“Hello.” She shyly waved at the two.

Kermit bowed, “Pleasure to meet you.”

Oscar didn’t speak but softly waved hello back.

Time, curious time Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs Were there clues I didn't see?

By the age of ten and one y/n and Oscar had always seem to end up near each other. One time y/n was in the library reading a book on the Old Gods when she heard the doors smack open. To her surprise Oscar was standing there out of breath. He quickly shut the door and ran over to her. He grabbed her hand and dragged her under the table.

“What’s wrong?” She asked. “Why are we hiding?”

“Mine and your brothers are chase me. They wish to throw me in the river as a happy name day present.”

“It’s your name day?” She smiled at the boy as he nodded shyly, “Happy nameday.”

“Thank you.” The two spend the rest of the afternoon talking under that table.

At the age of ten and two y/n have perfected her embroidery skills, so much that she started to embroider on her dresses. Y/n had a plain dark blue dress in her wardrobe that she wish to dress up for fun. She spent a whole month embroidering the dress for a festival at Riverrun. When the festival came around her and her family arrived at Riverrun. Entering the great hall, y/n noticed Oscar coming over.

“You have fishes on your dress?” Oscar pointed out. Y/n’s plain dark blue dress had be transformed into a dress with fishes dancing with ravens on the bottom.

“Do you like it?” she asked smiling at the boy. “I did it myself. I thought it was fitting.”

“Yes, its very beautiful.” He smiled back blushing, “like you.” He held out his hand towards her, “would you like to dance?”

The girl smiled and took his hand.

Another time was when y/n was ten and three she was walking the riverbank. The Backwoods were in Riverrun as her father had business with Lord Grover. “Y/n!” She heard a voice shout out behind her. The girl turned to see Oscar stumbling along the riverbank behind her, causing her to smile.

“What are you doing here? I thought you would be with my brother and Kermit?” She asked the boy confusedly.

“But I would much rather be here with you.” He smiled brightly. The two continue walking the riverbank enjoying each other’s company.

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

It was a sunny day in Ravenvale. Y/n was in her chambers getting ready excitedly, as it was her ten and four name day. Her maids were putting on her favourite red empire silhouette dress with an ivy pattern on the long sleeves. As her maid, Anne did her hair there was a knock on her door.

“Come in.” She invited whoever was at the door. The door pushed open to reveal a muddy Oscar Tully. “Oscar!” Y/n smiled standing up and walking closer to him.

“Y/n.” The muddy boy said out of breath.

“Why are you covered in mud?” She looked at him confusedly tilting her head slightly.

“I was in the grounds getting you this…” He caught his breath and brought his arm from behind his back to reveal a bouquet of flowers, lavenders, sweet peas and hydrangeas. “Happy name day, y/n.”

The girl took the flowers gently from his hand and sniffed them, “thank you Os. I love them.” She smiled at the boy, who was grateful she like them. Y/n handed the flowers over to Anne and asked her to place them in a vase by her bed. Oscar then said goodbye and ran off to find his brother and Benji. Leaving y/n to her own thoughts.

She realised that she was nearing the age in which her father would marry her of to some lord in some old castle that did not care or love her and only would use her to produce heirs for himself. She wished to be loved and cared for by some who she would love and care for, she wished for someone to grow old with. The more she thought about it, the more she knew who she wished to marry. She wished for it to be Oscar Tully, the boy who had been by her side since she was nine and onwards. She wished for the boy with curly hair who gave her flowers.

One single thread of gold tied me to you

On a cold autumn afternoon y/n was summoned to the main hall by her father. As she walked the Hall’s corridors, she got more and more nervous. Had she done something bad? Had Benji blame her for something he did and now she had to cover for him again? Is she finally being married of to an old, dying lord? When she near the door to the main hall the guards opened the doors and announced her arrival.

There stood her father and brother along with Lord Grover and Oscar, smiling and laughing. She looked at the gathering in confusion, “you wanted to see me, father?” she asked.

Her father turned to see her standing there and smiled brightly at her, “y/n! come greet your betrothed and his grandsire!”

“Betrothed?” she looked at Oscar, who sheepishly smiled at her.

“Yes, Lord Oscar Tully is to be your husband.” Her father explained. “We just finalised the arrangement.”

“Really?” She smiled at him. Once her father nodded to confirm, y/n ran at Oscar and hugged him tightly almost knocking him to the ground. Oscar chuckled slightly and hugged back. “I’m glad it’s you.” She whispered.

Once y/n was ten and seven and Oscar was ten and nine they had their wedding. It was held at Riverrun and all the noble houses of the Riverlands attended. After the two had said their vows, Oscar passionately kiss her, and she kissed back. As everyone cheered, her brother and Kermit whooping at the two, the happy couple Oscar swept y/n off her feet and carried her down the aisle.

#oscar tully #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd x y/n #oscar tully x reader #oscar tully x y/n #oscar tully imagine #hotd imagine

373 notes · View notes

to-the-thawing-wind · 6 months ago

Text

to the thawing wind - collection 1

Deep within the boughs of the great cherry tree, there lived a princess, and she lived alone.

She knew two things about herself. One, she was the queen’s most precious firstborn, and two, she was not the king’s. Although the king wished to be rid of the bastard child, her mother and grandfather forced him to spare her the fate of death. As so, for the crime of her birth, she was locked away in the highest tower, where he never had to look at her again.

But the day came when he was finally forced to acknowledge her, ‘lest well-kept secrets be revealed to his subjects. And so on the night of her 150th birthday, she was introduced to the court. On that night, she made a wish. One, simple wish now that she was freed from her cage.

She wished for a friend. A companion with whom she could share her joys and her woes. Someone who would be with her not out of obligation or familial bond, but because they enjoyed her company, and she theirs.

The wind cradled her wish and carried it to the far reaches of the fairy courts, searching for a recipient. It carried it far, past the summer fields, the autumn woods, to the deep mountains of winter. And unbeknownst to even him, the lord answered.

-the ceremony-

"Your Highness, it is time."

The princess stood from her place at the vanity. They'd painted her lips with crushed berries, dusted her cheeks with powdered moon pearls. Her hair, the silken pitch that it was, fell to her knees, nacre beads woven into the braids that tied together at the back of her head. The long, draping hanfu they'd dressed her in rippled like waves across an unsteady pond as she turned to the attendant. It was the color of snow, white and shimmering in the light, with intricate embroidery and a sash dyed as red as the poppies that dotted the fields outside the Court.

She fiddled with her sleeves, looking out the window to her old, silent companion, the strawberry-pink moon of the Spring Wylds, for reassurance. The Seijin-shiki was an old tradition, where the children of high ranking nobles or royalty in the Spring courts would be introduced formally to the court as an adult, customarily on their first centennial. She would be presented before the citizens and diplomats and given a name to proclaim her heir to the throne.. The king opposed it for as long as he could, but whispers began to fly when fifty years after her 100th birthday, she still hadn't been seen in court.

She knew the cover story the king made for her absence. She was born sick, and needed to be sheltered so that the heir to the Sakura Throne would be safe. She often wondered with a smile how furious he felt each time he referred to her as ‘heir’. She knew from an early age how much that man hated her existence. Bastards weren’t altogether uncommon for the fey, for they often sought out a multitude of lovers during their unaging lives. In the king’s case, however, she was a living reminder that he did not have total control over his queen. For a man that sought power above all else, her very existence was an insult to his ego. And now he would be forced to acknowledge her title to all of the Wylds.

The princess smiled and nodded to her attendant. She would be lying if she said she wasn't nervous. Anxiety and jubilation beat in her heart side by side. The joy of finally seeing the world outside of her room, the fear of how she would be appraised by the court. She thought she might drown in this veritable tsunami of feelings, for any emotion felt by fairies was stronger, deeper than most, but she'd studied her books and practiced for hours. She'd dreamed about this moment since learning about the Seijin-shiki.

The first step outside of her room felt like a weight being lifted off her shoulders, the first breath after being submerged under water until her lungs ached. A group of four guards flanked her, two on either side, as she descended the spiraling staircase from her tower. Her attendant carried the yards long train of her dress behind her as to not sully it on the dusty steps. Already she could hear the celebration. The crash of cymbals ringing across the courtyard, the court subjects shouting and laughing. A performance must have been going on, for she heard a lull in the crowd before a loud cry, which was followed by echoing, delighted cheers from the audience. She wondered what their reaction would be upon first seeing her tonight.

Her family was waiting for her at the main doors of the imperial palace. Upon seeing the princess, Queen Hajime rushed towards her.

"Oh, my precious little ruby,” she exclaimed, using the nickname they called her before she would be given a Court name, “You look beautiful.” Hajime was as lovely as ever in her imperial splendor, the gold accents to her violet hanfu complementing her eyes. She’d just begun to allow her age -- over four thousand years old -- to show, with a few fine lines crinkling with her smiles. The princess was proud she looked just like her, from their iridescent black hair down to the shimmering patterns on their wings.

"Thank you, Mama," she replied, trying not to grasp at the easily-wrinkled silk. At this point, being so close to the public, her nerves were frayed. She didn't know whether she might faint or throw up.

The stern visage of the previous king Haoran, father to the ruling king and grandfather to the princess, melted to a warm smile as he also approached. "You look just like your mother on the night of her Seijin-shiki. I pray that it will be just as magnificent an event as hers."

The princess blushed under such praise, but a low snort interrupted the happy moment. Katsuo, her younger half-brother, was leaning up against one of the pillars. His azure eyes, with the same black sclera he shared with her and their mother but goat's eye pupil of his father, scrutinized her up and down. "As if. Who cares about the Yurei-hime? They'll forget about her just as quickly once it's all over."

"Hold your tongue, boy," Haoran snapped, causing Katsuo to shrink away. "Your sister has waited five decades to have this day."

Katsuo did not reply, his gaze now firmly fixed on the floor. Haoran turned to his son and sighed, "Will you ever teach him proper decorum?"

King Masao held his stare. Despite being a couple hundred years younger than Hajime, the permanent scowl and salt-and-pepper beard he maintained aged him even further. The princess couldn’t recall a time he ever looked at her or even spoke to her directly, but tonight, he finally glanced at her, a quick assessment of her reaction to her brother’s words. She remained expressionless, refused to give them the satisfaction of knowing he got under her skin. Finally, Masao replied, "I see no issue with his composure."

Haoran pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course, you do not. Why do I ever expect differently?"

"She’s a dishonor to the family," Katsuo hissed under his breath, "A black sheep of a firstborn--"

"You will not speak to your sister that way," Haoran declared, his voice rising. "Your petty rivalry tells me you are still but a child throwing a tantrum. I have been lenient with your insolent behavior for far too long."

"Baba," she said softly, placing a calming hand on her grandfather’s arm. "It is alright."

He looked down to the young princess, exhaling slowly through his nose. "Thank you, Bellflower."

Although they had no blood relation, grandfather Haoran always held a soft spot for the young princess. From a young age, Hajime was promised to his firstborn, the late Prince Akito, until his passing led to her marriage to Masao. To Haoran, she was just as much his daughter as his blood children. Any child of hers was his grandchild, and he loathed the treatment her firstborn was subjected to because of her circumstances.

"Let's prepare for the ceremony, shall we?" Hajime offered up, with a nervous smile on her mauve lips. "Masao and I will proceed first down the dais, followed by Katsuo, then Baba, and little ruby, you will be last. It will be just like we practiced."

"Yes, Mama," the princess replied.

Hajime's smile became bright and she peppered her forehead with kisses. "I'm so proud of you!"

Masao rolled his eyes and turned to the doors, "Let's get this over with."

He looked to the attendants waiting by the doors and nodded sharply. The family filed into line, Hajime looping her arm with her husband’s, as one attendant weaved a spell in the air. Music filled the air, announcing the presence of the royal family.

The doors opened without a hand placed on them, and the crowds outside erupted into cheers. Finally, the princess could see just how many people arrived for her Seijin-shiki, and her heart leapt into her throat. The courtyard was full of the fae folk, fairies, elves, satyrs, hobgoblins, and more she could not make out. Sprites and faerie dragons danced in the air, and the entire promenade was alight with lanterns and fireflies. Masao and Hajime walked gracefully down the crimson walkway, the queen waving and blowing kisses to their subjects.

Katsuo leveled one last sneer at the princess before also walking out. She tried not to snicker when she heard the noticeable lull in cheers compared to when Masao and her mother walked down the dais.

Haoran squeezed her shoulder in reassurance and stepped out. She covered her ears at the volume at which the crowd shrieked their praise. She knew her grandfather was beloved by the people, but the devotion they showed was unparalleled to her estimates. She could see the sour expression on Masao’s face even from this distance, jealous that his father still held so much favor amongst the citizens.

The music came to a slow stop once Haoran took his place on the dais. Finally, it was time for her to emerge.

The crowd fell silent, waiting with palpable tension to catch a glimpse of the mysterious princess who’d been kept hidden for so long. Even the sprites in the air halted in their flight, staring at the shadows of the grand doors. She took a deep breath, placed her hands over the front of her hanfu with her chin held high, and walked slowly into the light. The people gasped, a single sharp inhale from the hundreds that had gathered. The silence hung like a bowstring waiting to snap as she fluttered down the dais. Now that she was out in the open, her stomach calmed. She smiled, bright and confident, while still remaining a little demure lest the people think she’s arrogant. Their eyes were training on her every move, and whispers began to fly.

“Oh my! How stunning her wings are!”

“Why, she looks just like her mother.”

“She doesn’t seem very frail, does she?”

“Not at all. She’s as hale and hearty as her brother.”

“Speaking of, look at him! Now that’s a sour face. You don’t suppose there’s a sibling rivalry?”

“Oh, of course there is! When is there not?”

The princess stopped in front of Haoran, who held a hairpin in his hands. It was a branch fashioned out of sparkling silver, with ruby and rose quartz petals as its blossoms. Kneeling on the pink petals spread across the cold stone, she bowed her head low, loose locks of hair obscuring her vision. In the silence the silk of her hanfu rustled like grass in the wind.

Masao stepped toward her, speaking, “By my authority, let the boughs of the Haru-akai Tree rise to meet you. Where you walk, may the earth cushion your steps and rivers slow their current. Where you fly, may the breeze carry you swiftly, and the skies be fair. On this day, the great Gealach of Tír na nÓg smiles upon you.”

Haoran stepped behind her and took her flowing hair in hand. He wove it up into a high bun that sat at the back of her head, and as he fastened it with the hairpin, he spoke, “For you are Suzume, princess of the Miure Court, firstborn of the Aoki family, and heir to the Sakura Throne.”

Suzume. She felt the weight of it on her tongue, mouthing the name silently to test it. Simple, sweet. She liked the melody of it, so different from the True Name she kept guarded in her heart and mind. The vowels reminded her of the cooing birds that lived around the court. The soft hiss of the ‘s’ like the rustling of silk in the breeze. It was perfect.

“As the larva becomes the butterfly, I join the eternal dance,” the princess-- No, Suzume replied, “Upon my True Name do I swear to uphold the values of the Seelie Court, and bring prosperity to my people.”

She looked up at Masao. His expression was neutral, but the intensity of his gaze bespoke a simmering hatred beneath the surface. She hoped this ceremony, naming her as his heir, pained him greatly. With a sardonic smile, she bowed her head again and stood. He took a fan from a nearby attendant and extended it out to her. She made sure not to brush his hands when she took it. Music began to rise as he and the rest of the Aokis stepped out of the way, leaving the circular dais open for Suzume.

She held the closed fan to her chest, delicately, head bowed and turned away from the audience. As the music swelled once more, she opened her wings with a flourish that earned a few “ooo”s. The movements were muscle-memory, and her feet shifted of their own accord. It was an elegant dance, with airy steps and spins, some quick as a flash and others a steady, slow turn. She closed her eyes and focused entirely on the music, letting herself forget about the many eyes watching her every move. At this moment, she was practicing the ceremony with her mother and grandfather, just the three of them in her room. The furniture was moved to make space and the windows were open to let in the cherry-scented air.

When she snapped the fan open, the crowd gasped. Their delighted cries rang out through the courtyard as she leapt from the dais, spreading her wings and soaring. She danced through the air, light from the lanterns catching in her wings, scattering into tiny fractals all around. The fan moved so swiftly in her hand, it gave off the appearance of a butterfly flapping its wings. Suddenly, it was one, and it fluttered in circles around Suzume as she twirled. In a final grand embellishment, Suzume raised her arms and the butterfly shot into the sky, bursting into a myriad of colors that had the crowd shrieking in delight.

She floated back to the dais to the sound of boisterous claps and cheers. Her people roared their praise, the noise only growing when she turned back to them and bowed. Elation soared in her chest just like that butterfly, and she beamed at them with her arms extended. Some in the crowd threw petals, rice, motes of sparkling light at the dais. Tears welled up in her eyes.

“Thank you,” she exclaimed, “Thank you!”

---

After the presentation to the people, the celebration moved back inside, with foreign dignitaries and elite nobles congregating in the main ballroom to mingle and congratulate the new princess. Glowing spider lilies hung like chandeliers from the ceiling. Trestles of green ivy crawled up the great pillars in spirals. It was a myriad of colors and sounds that the little princess was not accustomed to, but she loved the spectacle of it. As the fairies danced through the air, Suzume sat in the throne to the left of her mother, greeting any who approached with a kind, jubilant welcome.

"You're doing wonderful," her mother whispered to her in a moment when no one was near the throne. "Just keep your head held high and smile."

Suzume nodded and tilted her chin up a little more. From his place to the right of the king, Katsuo scowled. He leaned against the armrest of his throne and put his head in his hand with a huff.

A new stranger approached and extended his hand out to Suzume. "I would request the princess' company in a dance, if it would please her."

He was a tall eladrin, surprisingly tall even for his race, with pale skin and white hair draping in a long straight veil over one shoulder. Even his eyelashes were snowy white, framing pupiless blue eyes that glowed in the shadows of his slim face. He wore a deep ultramarine hanfu patterned with silver reeds and flying birds on the hem and sleeves. Tilting his head ever so slightly, he smiled, one that was both polite and mischievous in his intentions.

Suzume narrowed her eyes. "Who would be requesting, might I ask?"

"Iarlaith, envoy of the Lord of the Boreal Wildwood."

It wasn't his name. She could tell by the way it slipped off his tongue, fast and warbling like a clumsy babbling brook. Yet by the way his smile never faltered, his eyes never shifted, he wanted her to know he was lying. She leaned forward in her seat, intrigued and decidedly playing along.

"The Boreal Wildwood? You've traveled a great distance to be here."

"It is not every day that a daughter of the minor realms debuts to the Court. And many have been waiting for your arrival, your highness."

"You as well, sir?"

"Indeed. I expected you to be taller."

She laughed. "Really? Terribly sorry to disappoint, but I must wonder if everyone is shorter than expected for someone of your stature."

He chuckled softly under his breath. "You would be correct, little princess."

"Is it common for courtiers to make such bold comments at their first introduction?" She leaned back in her chair and cupped her cheek in her hand.

"It is merely part of my personal charm. I do so love to tease."

"An envoy and a jester! I see your company for the night will be quite entertaining."

He extended his hand again. "Then may I entertain you with a dance?"

Suzume looked over to her mother, who was watching their exchange with a critical eye. Bright gold flicked up and down as she assessed him, finally giving her daughter a curt nod. Suzume smiled graciously and placed her hand in his. It was freezing.

"I accept."

Iarlaith led her to the main floor, other guests parting for their walk. People gawked, whispered behind their hands, craned to get a better look. All the while, Iarlaith kept that same confident smile on his face, and Suzume bowed her head to the guests. They stopped when they were in the very center, her turning to him.

"Do you know the Voltura?" he asked her.

She tried not to show her displeasure. The Voltura required stamina, and had many small leaps interspersed through the dance. When they were little, Katsuo dared Suzume to try and leave her rooms for a day, and when she tried to walk down the staircase, he pushed her. Her leg never healed right after that tumble, and she couldn't put too much strain on it to this day.

Calmly, she replied, "I've rehearsed it before, but I have yet to dance it with a partner."

He nodded to the band of satyrs and nymphs in the corner, and the music began.

A long, long time ago, there was a young prince, and he lived happily. He and his closest siblings, his older brother and younger sister, would play and dance every day in the fields outside his mother’s palace. They were inseparable, but as they grew and grew, their minds sharpening, they became more aware of how each child was treated.

The prince, though loved by the daughters of delight, was largely ignored by the court.

The princess, though her beauty outshone any other, was seen only as a cherished ornament.

But the heir, who was the son of both the queen and the king, was beloved by all and showered with compliments and attention.

The prince and princess grew disheartened and resentment created walls between the once inseparable siblings. Argument after argument ensued, and after a cataclysmic event, the prince retreated to his land to escape the loneliness he faced in his mother’s court.

The prince grew bitter, and his once warm summer fields felt a chill for the first time. He became a prince of winter, his heart frozen over so that he would not have to feel such things as loneliness and grief anymore. Yet underneath the heavy frost of apathy, his heart yearned for the warmth of a family again.

-the envoy-

Deep within the Vale of the Long Night, a man walked onto the balcony of his palace of ice. A speck of black against the stark white of the landscape, he stared up the periwinkle moon of the Winter Wylds, a great eye so similar to his own that beared down on the wasteland he ruled. Miles and miles of snow-covered mountain, scarcely a living being in sight. This was the Vale of the Long Night, where the moon never hid from her brother sun, where the cold never ceased. Barren as it was, it was his home, his land, and the Prince of Frost ever sought to expand his territory.

As he watched the moon, his pupil-less eyes latched onto the lone silhouette against the gleaming rock: a tundra swan soaring towards him. He smiled, recognizing the figure. It drew closer and closer, until it dove toward the balcony and landed not on flippers, but pointed feet. A lithe woman perched on the balcony railing, adorned in a silvery lavender that blended with the pale landscape. She dipped into a low bow.

“My prince,” came the soft, melancholic voice, “The one the fairies called the Yurei-hime will be debuting to her court in a week's time. The barrier to the Miure Court will be lowered for the ceremony, allowing any and all outsiders to bear witness. The Lord of Boreal Wildwood has sent an envoy that will be passing close to our border on the morrow.”

“Good work,” he replied, “See to it that our tracks are covered without flaw. I will handle the envoy personally.”

“Shall I accompany you to the ceremony, my prince?”

He shook his head with a chuckle, “No that won’t be necessary. Even if she is the granddaughter of the Jade Knight, a sickly princess will pose no danger to me.”

---

She was not what he was expecting after hearing the rumors about her. She didn't startle like a lost fawn when people approached, didn't speak barely above a whisper, nor shrink away from the attention. She relished in her spotlight, much to the disappointment of her younger sibling. When she spoke, courtiers hung onto every lilting word, and her laughter rang like a bell. She did not look like she was once a sickly child. Her cheeks had a healthy glow, and there was mirth in her smiles.

The Prince of Frost watched from the shadows of the ballroom, assessing the princess and her family. He thought he'd found an easy puppet for the future. Over the past ten millenia he'd been encroaching closer and closer to the reclusive Miure court, owners of the Haru-akai Tree. It was an important wellspring of mana, one that boosted the arcane power of its inhabitants to perform otherwise impossible feats of power. Geopolitically, it allowed the Miure court to maintain a reserved, but influential position in the Wylds. Frost thought it an excellent location to expand to, to take that influence for himself. Yet they kept their borders firmly shut, and he lacked the weak link in the chain to break the long-standing dynasty.

Then started the rumors of Masao's firstborn. She was deathly ill, she was scared of the world outside the palace, she'd been cursed. It would be a simple enough task to recruit her for his cause. His words alone were enough to bend even the strongest wills to his side. If she were as sick or cursed as they said, it would be a simple enough task to cure her, for the right price.

Yet he looked at her now, observing her features.

He noticed how she lacked the circular patterns of Masao's wings on her own, or any of his features really. So similar to her mother, a perfect replica. His vision shifted, and he saw the way the magic of the Wylds hummed around her. Darkness clung to her hair, swirled in lazy spirals in her shadow. To the lesser trained eye, one wouldn’t notice it. But he was no ordinary fey. As a son of Titania, his insight into the magic of the Wylds was second only to his mother, and the young princess’ dark power was a kind seen only among the Unseelies.

Ah, so that is her story.

He knew what it meant to be a bastard. It was no secret that both High Queen Titania and King Oberon took lovers apart from each other nor was it considered taboo among the fey, but he was not oblivious to the difference in treatment between him and certain siblings, even before his change into the Prince of Frost. Damh was the son of a queen AND king. Despite his claims it was merely his charisma that earned him such accolades, The Sun Prince and his siblings knew better. Why fawn over the spares when the blue-blooded firstborn was there?

He stopped speaking to his family after his transformation. It seemed that they did not miss his company.

"I understand that you've been in poor health for many of your years," he commented as he took her hand. They stood to each other's side, hands raised between them, and circled one another.

"An unfortunate consequence of a premature birth," Suzume replied. She tugged on his arm, and they spun to switch places. "I've always been the delicate sort."

"But to keep such a bright child away from even Titania? King Masao is a fool, indeed."

She let out a rather unladylike snort as she danced. “You are brave to say that in his home.”

"Well then perhaps I am the fool, since you already seem to think me a jester."

She raised a brow teasingly. “With your jokes, are you not?”

He let out a fake, offended gasp. “I’m hurt, little princess! Must a man be considered such to have a light-hearted go at a grumpy old king?”

She laughed, “Perhaps not. You just have an air of comedy about you.”

“And you have the air of a princess who will have these courtiers wrapped ‘round her little finger.”

People gasped when he spun her again, her white skirts fanning out around her. Suzume grinned wryly. "You are liberal with your compliments, Lord Iarlaith. It makes me wonder what you hope to gain from our little chat."

As the music picked up its pace, Frost noticed one of her legs was starting to shake. Yet the expression on her face didn't change. His brow drew together. "I hoped to gain an understanding. The Miure court has kept a distant relationship with the rest of the Seelies for many a century. Ever since your grandfather ended the turmoil regarding the court's succession and King Masao was crowned."

The Third War of Succession, considered the darkest century in the Miure Court’s history. After the sudden death of Haoran’s firstborn son Akito, who was poisoned on the night of a new moon, anyone who had a claim to the Aoki bloodline leapt at the opportunity for the crown. Masao, the next in line for the throne as secondborn, did not bow down easily when he had the might of the Haru-Akai Tree with him. Taking after his father’s ruthlessness in battle, he slaughtered the would-be scions until Haoran was forced to return early from his odyssey to end the bloodshed. No one would dare contest the new king so long as the legendary Jade Knight stood by his side.

“He wished to focus on internal matters, and restore what was lost during that time of violence.”

She had rehearsed this cover story, he'll give her that. The pulse in her wrist hardly jumped at all, nothing out of the ordinary for someone lacking his intuition.

"Indeed. Yet to keep his firstborn locked away so... with only her immediate family and tutors being able to see her... For someone he claimed was so sickly, rarely was a doctor ever witnessed entering her tower."

Suzume did not respond, her expression darkening. He was surprised to see such a wicked expression on her young face. She was by no means a child any longer, already halfway towards her second centennial, but for someone with so little experience with the world to hold as strong a grudge as she did…

"Is that fury I see in your eyes?"

“Choose your next words carefully, my lord,” she warned.

The anger did not fade when he lifted her by the waist, as the dance required, high into the air. Her shoulders were tense, as if she were a viper coiling to strike should he push too far.

"Why do they shun you so?” He said it softly while lowering her, so no one else could hear. “Your... circumstances are not so uncommon."

Her eyes flashed again. As her grip on his hand tightened, she unexpectedly shifted and stomped on his foot. Subtly, so the guests wouldn't notice, but pointedly. It didn't hurt, but it caught him off guard enough to wince. "You make wild accusations, my lord. Do you presume to know me?"

He fought the urge to chuckle at her antics and wondered how Masao kept a spitfire like her contained for all those years. "I know like calls to like. And you and I are more alike than you may think... Why do you draw your father's and brother's ire?"

She huffed as he twirled her again. "I see you lack knowledge on the customs of the Spring Courts. Their rules are very different from the lands outside."

He tried to recall what she meant. Succession of titles was reserved for the firstborn, as all courts follow, but it was limited to the main ruler, not their royal consort, whether they be king or queen. Such a law was the product of a jealous mortal king who stole his title from a fairy. Fed up with his queen’s infidelity, he enacted the law so that his own child, the queen’s thirdborn, would reign after him. As Masao was king regnant of the Miure court, it would have to be his child to succeed him, not Queen Hajime's. If she was not Masao's, then…

Why? What was their reasoning to hide her heritage, and thus ensure Suzume was heir to the throne? Masao was clearly not pleased with the arrangement, but he was king. What compelled him to keep silent about Hajime’s firstborn…?

"My mistake, little princess," he said, choosing not to pry further. The puzzle was almost complete. All he needed now was the one missing piece that would paint the full picture, but all in due time. He lifted her up into the air again, and this time he noticed her leg was pale with strain. "I have overstepped, and I apologize."

She shrugged. "It is of no import. I cannot expect one of the frostlands to be familiar with our customs."

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. "The frostlands? You are mistaken, your highness, I am of the Autumn--"

"Are you?"

He paused, holding her gaze. She was smirking up at him, clearly pleased with herself for figuring out at least part of his secret so quickly. When he lied about his identity, clumsily but just well enough that it wouldn't raise too much suspicion, he imagined it would take her a week or more to deduce where he truly was from. With more hints thrown in from him of course. He underestimated her intuition.

Cocking her head to the side, she explained,"Don't mistake my inexperience with dullness. An Autumn courtier would know our customs immediately, and have already drawn the conclusion with your assumptions. And your hands are like ice.”

He raised a brow. "Cheeky little thing, aren't you?"

Her smile widened as they swapped places once more. "Oh, yes! I'm glad you noticed. And while I do not know your true identity yet, rest assured I will discover it eventually."

“Oh you will, will you?...” As the music rose for the finale, he lowered his voice to a whisper, “When I let go, fly.”

He picked her up before she could respond and tossed her into the air with ease. She squeaked in surprise. Her wings subconsciously flapped to keep her airborne, and Frost held her hand as she flew in circles around him. Her shocked expression turned to a wide smile. The crowd gasped with delight at the spectacle, and clapped when she settled on the floor again. Frost held her hand in the air, and at the same time they bowed.

He turned to her again. "Well I look forward to seeing you try. You'll have plenty of opportunities soon, as I will be staying at the imperial palace for the next few weeks."

"You're staying here?"

It was true. The lord of the Boreal Wildwood was scheduled to attend the ceremony with the other surrounding royals and later discuss a potential alliance against the rapiding expanding Vale of the Long Night for the following month, but they fell ill. The real envoy they sent vanished mysteriously on his journey close to the border. Frost may or may not have had something to do with it.

"Indeed. Your ceremonial dance was marvelous but perhaps a partner is in fact needed for a dance between two. Rest assured, I will teach you how to not step on my toes next time."

He tapped her lightly on the nose, which she scrunched up her face indignantly at. She looked like a very upset bird, the short locks of her bangs puffing out and small brows pointed downward. "What nerve!"

Frost chuckled. "Oh cheer up, sparrow. I think we will be very good comrades, once we get to know each other."

Scowling, she bowed lowly before him. He could hear her muttering insults under her breath as he too bowed. Through gritted teeth she replied, "Thank you for the dance, my lord."

He smiled. "It was my pleasure, your highness."

She turned on her heel and began walking back to the thrones, where her family was waiting. Frost was pleased to notice she did not limp on her bad leg as she walked, the subtle spell he cast when tapping her nose taking effect. Hajime looked elated, face aglow with a wide smile. She stood up to meet her daughter halfway, and they began to speak. Masao did not look at them, but Katsuo was watching the exchange with a sour expression. He slumped in his throne and crossed his arms like a petulant child despite his years. Yet of all the members in the Aoki family, one's eyes were set on Frost.

Haoran watched him unblinking, a neutral expression on his face. Somehow it was more unnerving than if he were to look furious. Frost held his stare, waiting for him to approach, to speak, anything. To his surprise, he didn't, and they remained locked in that stalemate until a rather inebriated dignitary stumbled into Frost. He reached down to right the hobgoblin, and when he looked back, Lord Haoran was gone, the doors behind the dais swinging shut behind him.

Queen Hajime spoke an enchantment, and the buds running along the vines opened in multitudes, in reds and whites and golds. They were bellflowers, and they released sparkling lights that tumbled over the crowd of people, catching on hair and cloth before fizzling into nothing. She held up her glass.

"Esteemed guests, I would like to propose a toast to my beloved Suzume..." She began, but the words soon became muddled in Frost's ears.

Suzume stood proudly at her side, eyes roaming over the crowd. When they locked on Frost, she scrunched up her nose for just a second, quick enough those who were paying attention to her mother wouldn't notice, but he would. He grinned back at her. Taking a glass from a pixie's serving tray, he raised it alongside the other guests and clapped.

This was not how he expected his reconnaissance to go.

Frost underestimated the fairy. From deducing his court of origin to her gregarious demeanor, she was not at all what the rumors claimed she was. He came to this celebration looking for an impressionable young princess, and found a kindred spirit instead. There wasn't anything extraordinary about this fairy but she felt... familiar. It brought back days of playing in open fields, of pranks and hijinks. Days of revelry, rivalry, of insults and apologies and laughter.

Although the celebration remained in high spirits, with no sign of stopping, Frost felt it a good time to retire to his rooms. He retreated to the back of the ballroom, avoiding the drunken guests, and slipped out through one of the screen doors. The halls were quiet, with only the crickets chirping from the gardens as a peaceful ambience. Frost sighed, letting the tension out of his shoulders and jaw. As entertaining as balls were, they became such a chore after a while. It was too hot compared to his palace back in the Vale, even for a Spring court. The coolness of the night air was a soothing balm, and for just a moment he decided to let his guard down.

He heard the quiet clack of a wooden shoe. Someone was behind him.

Frost turned to see Lord Haoran a few paces away, moonlight carving deep shadows on his weathered features. Frost stopped, turned to face him directly, and he bowed.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, your lordship," he said. "I am Iarlaith--"

"What are you doing here, Frost?" Haoran interrupted.

Frost grimaced.

"Spare me any attempts at playing coy. It wasn't too long ago I saw you nestled in your mother's arms, just a stumbling babe." Haoran put his hands in his sleeves. "You do not leave your frozen wasteland without reason."

He sighed, and let the disguise fall away. His skin returned to its natural blue hue, the sclera of his eyes fading back to gray. Shrugging his shoulders, the hanfu shimmered and faded to reveal a black tunic and trousers underneath. "Do forgive me for trying to expand my horizons."

Haoran scoffed. "I see your inclination to backtalk has not been weathered away by Time. A more effective method of interrogation then."

The spell hit him like a gale, knocking the wind out of him and pushing him an inch back. He didn't see Haoran make the motions, nor even speak the incantation, but he felt it in his lungs like smoke. His tongue grew heavy, his throat closed. A truth spell, trapped in his throat. The hum of the magic was loud enough to reach his ears; it was far stronger than the paltry spell adventurers used in their quests. Then another hit, this one targeting his body and keeping him firmly planting in that spot. He couldn't even move his arms to counter the attack.

"Now, what were you doing with my granddaughter?"

The spell compelled Frost to speak, although he resisted as much as he could, "I was... merely making her acquaintance."

"You expect me to believe that was all you wanted to achieve tonight? What else?"

Even the strongest truth spells could not force him to deliver his secrets on a silver platter. How could he navigate the question to tell the truth but not the real answer? He said quickly, "Nothing that would bring her harm."

Haoran raised his eyebrows, amused at his roundabout response. "And my other family members, as well?"

At this question, Frost did not reply, for a truthful answer was most definitely not in his favor. His mouth started to burn, as if hot coals had been lit under his tongue. Like a thousand pins pushing in did his lips sting. Something was building in the back of his throat, caustic and sharp. He spat out thistle petals, and finally spoke, "The king! … Only the king, at the moment."

Haoran chuckled as he coughed the rest of the flower out, blood speckling the floor, "A worthy attempt at suppressing my magic. This is a spell I crafted during the Hanahaki Conflict so please, make this easy on yourself and do not resist. Why did you seek her highness?"

"Rumors seemed to credit her as a valuable pawn in my conquest."

"And do you believe them?"

Frost hesitated, not in an attempt to resist but to think. "... Not anymore. She’s far too clever to be puppeteered, and would be of far more value as an ally."

"You are wise in that regard at least." Haoran moved closer to him, the light vanishing from his features as he passed a pillar, replaced with shadow. Only his eyes, green and goat-like, shone through. "My granddaughter cares about her people above all else. She will not consort with a foreign entity who would bring harm to her city in his petty crusade."

"We need not make the Miure Court a part of the Vale. Just having the support of your kingdom would suffice."

Haoran chuckled wryly. "What do we have to gain from allying with the Winter fae? Childish disputes? Anarchy? You lack sufficient boons to offer us for a bargain to be struck. Tell me, Prince of Frost, what do you have to trade that we would benefit from?"

Frost clenched his jaw. There was not much for the previous king of the Miure court to want for. But he thought back to how proud he looked as he announced her name to the court. How he patted her fondly on the head as they walked back inside. It was the happiest he’d ever seen the man, since Akito died.

"... I can ensure her long reign."

Haoran’s brow rose for just a moment, the slightest ripple on the otherwise clear surface of his expression. It’d caught him by surprise. "You want her to rule? As a true leader and not tied to your puppet strings?"

"As I said before, she is far more valuable as an ally. When the Winter fey do organize, they do so under me. Should any conflict befall the Princess during her rule, or anyone rise to challenge her claim to the title, my armies will be there to defend her."

His armies, for their magic. Combining them would make the Miure Court, and by extension the princess, untouchable. It was daunting enough for their enemies to consider battling the court with Haoran present. To have a son of Titania as an ally would push the thought out of their minds entirely.

Conflict entered the ancient's eyes. "... You know, don't you?"

"Like calls to like. I know what she is."

Haoran sighed, the tension leaving him as if the world-bearing weariness he shouldered was finally too much for him to bear. Frost knew Haoran was ancient. He'd already reigned for fourteen centuries by the time Frost was grown enough to babble. But he and many more denizens of the Wylds would sometimes forget it seeing his stoic vitality. At this moment, he looked truly old. All fairies were immortal to Time's influence, and they could live for eons unless violence or plague were to take them early. The Jadewing was one of the oldest.

"So rare is it that children sired lead to a promising legacy in our family that one might think our bloodline was cursed,” he began. “I often wonder what I could've done to make my second son a stronger scion, but he is grown. I have created a fool and his son has already begun following in his footsteps. Perhaps that is the curse of the secondborn, to want for everything the first earns. My dutiful granddaughter is to whom I give my legacy, and I will not depart the realm until I have faith that her position is secure.

“So I would propose a deal. You may stay here in the palace as you had planned. I will not banish you back to your frozen wastes, and my son will be none the wiser to your deception considering his… indifference. Continue to play the part of Iarlaith. However” -- He raised one finger in warning. -- “I will cast an enchantment that requires you to be entirely truthful when speaking to Suzume, and only to Suzume. Lie to whoever else you please. You may attempt to resist, but I must say the physical pain caused by it is rather excruciating, even for those as strong as us. Neither of us can tell her that we have made this deal. You are not to dispel it yourself or have someone else dispel it. Should you gain her trust and show yourself to be a formidable ally, I will release the enchantment and negotiate an alliance with the Vale of the Long Night.”

-the game-

Suzume sat curled up on the windowsill, listening to the men just underneath her with an amused smile. She couldn’t see them, what with the shingled awning in the way of her line of sight, but she knew by their voices who they were. Her grandfather, and Iarlaith, who was becoming more and more mysterious yet. She didn’t mean to eavesdrop at first. She went to the parlor to rest a moment, for despite how overjoyed she was to finally mingle, it was still a lot to take in when she was so accustomed to solitude. She went to the window to watch the moon like she always did when she needed a moment of peace. The breeze carried their voices upwards, and she caught what her grandfather was saying.

“You know, don’t you?” He said.

“Like calls to like,” Iarlaith answered, “I know what she is.”

The envoy was as perceptive as she was, if that was not too arrogant to say. She would be lying to herself if she thought it didn’t daunt her that someone saw her true nature so soon. Who’s to say how many others might be able to tell? She kept her shadow magic under constant, vigilant suppression, something she learned to do from a young age.

But he had strong insight, something that the typically selfish-by-nature fairies lacked. For all the years her tutors trained her, they never deduced why Suzume was kept hidden. Too caught up in their own little worlds to notice the way shadows seemed to darken in her presence, or how they swirled around her as if they had a mind of their own. If he wanted to, he could blackmail her with her heritage easily. But his reaction as they danced and his choice of wording here made her ponder his intentions.

She snapped her fan open and let the repeating back and forth motion soothe her nerves.

‘Like calls to like.’ Surely that could only mean he was a bastard himself. So that was why he looked at her so sympathetically as they danced. A bastard from the winter courts… One that was discerning, charming, and calculating. A bit funny too, when she thought about it. Someone with charisma like his would be well-trained in the art of manipulation, yet by his forcefully truthful words, he wasn’t weaving a web yet.

She listened further to her grandfather’s proposal. He was as thorough as ever, to ensure there were no loopholes that Iarlaith might be able to take advantage of.

“I will not so readily agree without first putting forth my own conditions,” Iarlaith responded. “You would permit me to make use of the Haru-akai Tree?”

“As much as she sees fit.”

How nice of Baba to consider her.

Iarlaith continued, “You must not hinder my efforts, nor may you attempt to sway her in any direction. You cannot tell anyone, not just her, of this deal, and I will do the same. And what should happen if I fail?”

He was clever, adding that they tell no one. Haoran was no doubt gambling with such a loophole that only he could exploit by telling Hajime, who would then pass on the information to her. If only they knew she was listening in on them right now! It was such a delightful moment of intrigue that she giggled and kicked her feet excitedly.

“If she does not trust you by the last sunset, there will be no alliance,” Haoran decided, “and you and your associates will be forbidden entrance to the Miure Court so long as she reigns. You may not conquer her to end her reign early.”

“I will not let my venture be for nothing. A portion of its petals, to amplify my magic for a time.”

“Very well, petals enough to last you until Walpurgisnacht. Do you accept?”

Silence filled the air as Iarlaith pondered the deal. Suzume waited impatiently by the window, resting her head against the frame. Even the Tree’s boughs rustled with anticipation.

Finally, he spoke. “I accept.”

The air became charged with the arcane as the deal was set, the smell of ozone invading Suzume’s nostrils. There was no going back for them now. The Wylds had accepted the bargain, and the young princess could only imagine what the land would do should they fail either end of the deal.

“I did not expect you to be so compromising,” Haoran said. She could hear Iarlaith stumble, as if his knees had been locked for too long. “You have grown from your demanding younger years.”

Iarlaith’s breath was ragged as he hissed, “I am aware of the meaning of ‘no,’ your highness.”

He chuckled. “Once upon a time, you weren’t. And look where it got you.”

His voice lowered to a level she couldn’t hear, a whisper to the envoy. Suzume leaned further out of the window, trying to make out the soft words. One of the nacre beads woven in her hair, loosened from all the excitement dancing and frolicking, slipped out of the silken strands, and she gasped when it clattered down the shingles. She clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle the sharp sound, and prayed that they didn’t notice it.

Evidently they didn’t, for she heard Haoran bid Iarlaith farewell, and the clack of his shoes faded as the distance between them grew. Then came the sharp tap of the envoy’s shoes as he marched in the other direction. The moment had passed, and she was alone with her thoughts.

‘What a fun little game they’ve made,’ she thought to herself. ‘The cards all dealt, yet they fail to realize a third player has entered the fray. Very well, I’ll play along. Let’s see how clever Iarlaith plans to win my trust.’

She debated how to go about this situation until the door opened and in walked her grandfather. Suzume squeaked in surprise, and hid her devious grin from him with her fan. “Baba! What are you doing here?”

“Your mother told me you left to have a moment alone,” he said, eyes softening. “Are you well?”

“Yes, I’m fine! It was just a lot of excitement,” she responded, trying not to giggle. Something about keeping such a secret was thrilling to her. She wanted to burst out into song, ‘I know what you’re up too~!’ but kept herself from blurting it out.

Unfortunately for her, her grandfather knew her well, and at this moment, he knew she was hiding something. “Little Ruby, what do you know?”

“You named me this very night and still decide to call me by my childhood moniker?” She tried to deflect.

“To me, you will always be our little ruby.” He moved to sit in the windowsill across from her and wagged a gnarled finger at her. “But that doesn’t answer my question… Suzume.”

Brambles, he didn’t take the bait.

She fluttered the fan and looked toward the sky. “I might have overheard an interesting conversation.”

Haoran raised a brow. “Oh? And what was said during this interesting conversation?”

“They spoke of a bargain,” she continued. “A curious one that I look forward to watching play out.”

He stroked his beard thoughtfully, “A bargain, you say? Perhaps it is the one that I am thinking about at this moment…?”

Her smile widened. Leave it to her grandfather to find a way around their self-made regulations. He wasn’t telling her about the bargain if she already knew about it. “I have reason to believe it is. Awfully clever, you were! I’m eager to see how this plays out.”

“And how do you plan to participate?” He leaned against the mahogany frame and clasped his hands. “Will you take initiative?”

“But of course.” She got up to move around the room and let out some of the energy she’d been building up, her wings dragging behind her like a gown train. “It would be no fun if I were a passive player in this game. No, I shall test his resolve myself. How badly does he desire this alliance, and what will he do to get it?”

Haoran watched her with an amused smile. Silently, he walked to the ornate cupboard and opened one of the doors. He took out a Go board and set it on the tea table. As he separated the white and black pieces, he asked, “What will be your first move, hm? I know your curiosity is deeper than the Wells of Ninian. Will you ask him who he is?”

Suzume sat across from him. “No,” she replied with a shake of her head. “There’s no entertainment in having his secrets handed to me on a silver platter. I will wait until I discover it on my own or he deigns to tell me.”

He made the first move, putting a black piece in the center of one quadrant. “You were always fond of playing with your food. Would it be arrogant of me to say I trained you well?”

She laughed. “I’d hardly call truth arrogance. And what of you, Baba?” She placed the white piece right next to his, preferring a more offensive approach. “He may have ruled that you could not interfere with the bargain, but I know you’re clever enough to enact your will regardless.”

“Truth be told” -- He placed another piece. -- “I feel obligated to remain an observer. You will be the one to decide the fate of the Miure Court in the end. As your grandfather, I have faith that you’ll make the right decision without my influence.”

Suzume smiled, and kept playing. Growing up, her grandfather and her mother were the only two people in their multitudinous family to visit her. The great-aunts and uncles and cousins she knew were part of the Aoki bloodline were barred from her, and her own half-brother refused to see her unless it was to belittle and mock. Although she sometimes wondered who her father was, it didn’t bother her that she didn’t know him. Haoran was all she needed in a father. He was there to keep her company, teach her, train her to be a proper princess of Miure Court. They’d spent many days playing Go like this, and Suzume found herself growing ever closer to finally winning against him.

“You’re growing sloppy, Baba,” she teased. She’d already captured five of his pieces in one fell swoop, and was approaching another two.

He chuckled, “Or you still have much to learn. Patience --” He placed a black stone down and took three of hers in retaliation. “Will be your saving grace.”

She smiled. Without a word, she took a white piece and set it on the board. A quarter of his stones disappeared in an instant. His eyes widened, already recognizing that he could not recover from the loss. He looked up at his granddaughter in a mixture of amazement and pride.

“Patience, Baba, I already have plenty of.”

#creative writing #writing #writeblr #fantasy #to the thawing wind #nanowrimo

8 notes · View notes