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infinitelystrangemachinex · 6 years ago

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AnS Week Day 1 >> EARTH << stability - growth - wisdom - resistance

Conqueror (1/6): shall not perish from the earth (Kihal/Zen)

Treason. Breaking of contract. Breaking of oath. Lack of fealty. Lack of honor. Denial of... hospitality?

It's a long list, and at the beginning, Zen wasn't sure. But now he is. Viscount Blaker has absolutely made half of these up.

For the dozenth time in under an hour, he resents Izana to the cold marrow of his bones. His Majesty's voice is long accustomed to droning out names and titles and lists such as these without so much as an itch in his throat - maybe that's where his lilting, sleek tones come from - but Zen reaches the end of the list hoarse and with his voice scratching too deep in his chest, an old man with nothing left in life but to breathe in the smoke from his fireplace and hack and cough his demands to his grandchildren. Mounting concern presses down on his vocal chords like a descending stone slab. He wishes there were a brimming goblet within reach.

The island girl is a friend of yours. Izana had all but shrugged, but kings don't shrug. Izana can put images in your head just by thinking them cleverly at you. This matter is small, and the North occupies much of my time. You hold court in my place.

(And don't mess it up.)

So Zen reaches the end of the list, lowers the parchment, and the first thing he sees when he looks up is the cracked-ice slap of Kihal's blue-green eyes set in the warm earth tones of her face. The list of charges is just about the longest Zen has ever seen, yet here she stands, feet rooted to the floor, shoulders squared, chin up, full lips relaxed together. She's the only thing worthy of attention in the entire room full of silks and robes and powdered nobility. Anyone she looks at, she somehow peers down at through the forest of her lashes, even though she's as dimunitive as Zen remembers. There's also the fur cloak that sweeps from her shoulders to the floor, allowing only a hint of the garments she wears underneath to show through - deep turquoise fabric, bits of seashell, some kind of grass, buckles and clasps made of opulent stone. Compared to her, the Clarinsian court is flimsy, twitchy, pallid. Worst of all is Viscount Blaker at her side, teeth showing through his sneer, so drenched in self-satisfaction Zen imagines his skin pruning under his vest.

A shade of this scene had taken place years ago. Lighter circumstances, a much smaller audience. Had Zen been asked back then to place the woman he sees before him now, he wouldn't have been able to.

Kihal looks at them the way one of Lyrias' famed mountain cats contemplates how a toddling child might fit in her jaws. Zen is spared that at least, but still, looking at her -

"Friend" is quite the overstatement.

Zen has a good swallow so his strained voice won't crack under her scrutiny. "Lady Toghrul -" Lady, because the castle has nothing else recognizable to call her. "- how do you answer to these charges?"

"Oh yes, guilty," she says brightly, without the slightest hesitation, without even blinking, as though he's just asked her if she'd like a cup of tea, and with or without sugar and lemon. "Guilty on all charges, Your Highness."

Viscount Blaker bursts into a muffled coughing fit, trying to cover up his peal of laughter. The entire court rustles and murmurs darkly around them. The corners of Kihal's lips merely curl. And it's all Zen can do to not clap both his hands to his face and leave them there for a long, long time.

Kihal's bird is late.

By the time Zen learns that she's docked a ship in the eastern harbor at Koto, he has maybe an hour to arrange rooms, supper, and a greeting party. Mitsuhide, Kiki, and Obi are all in the North, so it's Lord Haruka's hands he shooes away so he can clasp his cape in place himself, bound down the marble steps, and try not to look out of breath while a train of clopping hooves and tossing manes closes in, passing through the Seashell Gate with considerable panache.

The beasts, when they arrive huffing and sweaty, are burlier but smaller than typical castle stock. Zen might have called them underfed if their dark coats didn't shine so. There are no carriages or even wagons in the entourage - the horses bear riders and saddlebags alike. Half the riders are men, the other half women - and when the procession executes an orderly ninety-degree rotation, there she is in the middle of them, sitting at ease astride a pawing and prancing black stallion, its saddle and bridle adorned with turquoise, black lava stone, and fiery orange coral. The fur cloak sweeps down over the creature's muscular haunches, and Kihal's sable hair in turn tumbles down the cloak in an intricate twist of turns and braids.

At that moment, a blur of ocean flashes through the sky, swooping with great wings spread to alight with practiced ease on Kihal's shoulder. Popo immediately fluffs his feathers and tucks himself against his master's temple, and Kihal presses him gently in return with the curve of her cheek.

She looks magnificent, she looks gone to some far-off battle on the sea and already returned the overwhelming victor. She's a ghost from the past made breathtaking flesh, and Zen is not prepared. No one had told him - no one had told him what she'd become.

He bows at the waist, half unwilling to tear his gaze away. "My Lady Toghrul - welcome back to Wistal."

From her superior height, Kihal nods down at him. "Your Highness Zen." Then a smile twitches her lips apart, showing large and very white teeth, and Zen absolutely should have known triumph when he saw it.

"You seem different, my lady," he manages over supper, then winces at himself. He'd give anything to have Mitsuhide or - no, better yet - Obi at his elbow, kicking him under the table, divulging only the most embarrassing pieces of his past in palatable spoonfuls of half-truths to Kihal, if only to remind him that he's not just Prince Zen, that he can be Not-Prince-Zen. Not that even Not-Prince-Zen had ever really known how to talk to Kihal - not when she didn't have tears welling in her eyes, at least. "I mean - it's been some time. You've changed."

Kihal swallows her bite of tenderized octopus. "And you haven't changed at all."

Zen feels himself redden to the prickling roots of his hair, oh no - "I certainly hope I can prove to you otherwise, Lady Toghrul."

I could mention nearly getting killed by psychopathic rebels, he muses, pushing halved figs - too brown in the middle, here in their Wistalian off-season - to the edge of his plate with his fork. That had been three years ago, though. If I were Obi, it'd be like commenting on the weather. Murder with a smattering of light showers. But before he can say anything, Kihal is setting aside her fork like she means business and looking him square in the eyes.

"You should know, Your Highness - there are no ladies on Yuris."

He does know. The distant shuffle and clatter of silent butlers and servants sounds deafeningly in his ears. Doesn't she know how many eyes and ears are on them? "Forgive me. But surely the chieftain's daughter bears some title."

It's like she shoulders a space for herself in the air, like everybody else is just living in a way to fill out their own outlines while hers struggles to keep up with her at all times. "Father isn't chieftain anymore," she declares in a low, ringing tone. "Yuris calls me rangatira. Leader, chieftain, and great weaver."

A chill, not unpleasant, ripples across Zen's skin at the name. So he speaks without thinking. "Chieftainess, I suppose."

"Just chieftain, I'm afraid. It's a very traditional title, given by traditional people."

Zen barely holds in a short, thick laugh. It's been a long time since he's met someone so charming, so gently menacing. She's got him flipping and flopping on a hook and he doesn't even think he regrets spearing himself on it. Thank goodness Izana's not watching this. He pushes his plate aside and leans his elbows into the gilded edge of the table. "Where have you been?" he asks at last, wonderingly. "What have you been doing?"

"This and that, here and there."

If she wanted to change the subject, she wouldn't be watching him so smugly. In a burst of nostalgia, he's reminded of Izana - Lord Sui's cousin is moving his estate closer to Lord Haruka's, Zen, what do you think he could possibly want?

"Your cloak," he says suddenly. He's rewarded with Kihal's face lighting up. "I've never seen anything like it. Surely it's not from the South?"

"Not at all." She flicks a thick swath of her hair back over her shoulder to better show off the dark gray fur; a stroke of her fingers bares snow-white roots. A truly beautiful garment, and probably warm - Wistal's puff of winter must feel like a frozen midnight in Sereg to Kihal. "The clientele of Yuris' harbors has expanded greatly in recently years."

Zen frowns. Even if that were true, he'd never known the humble families of Yuris to lavish themselves with anything besides the laughter of their own children, and there were far less ostentatious ways to keep out the winter chill. "I wasn't aware that the island's olive trade with the mainland was doing even half so well."

Of Yuris' three main exports, walnut stones were invaluable to birders, but otherwise, they were little more than pretty trinkets. Figs spoiled too quickly and sold for far too little. It had to be the olives.

Kihal makes a show of looking thoughtful. "Oh, I believe the island orchards are yielding as much as usual. However, over these past years, I've been able to get my hands on a few more of them."

"You bought more olive orchards." He shakes his head, pleased with her cleverness and smiling helplessly, and reaches for his wine. "How many?"

"All of them."

A quarter of the wine sloshes over Zen's wrist. He puts down the goblet hastily and a servant bustles to his side, already dabbing at the purple stain in his sleeve. "You. You what."

"I own every olive orchard of no small means in the South, Your Highness." Kihal dips her head demurely and does nothing to mask the satisfaction in her face. "Don't worry, there are plenty of families on Yuris who've been harvesting the fruit for generations and they make excellent advisors. The region's oil won't go rancid overnight."

"But where -" Zen can hardly speak; his tongue feels swollen in his mouth. The servant tugs and plucks at his sleeve. "Where did you get the capital?"

"Everyone wants what no one else has. It would seem that Yuris has many such treasures." Then she leans forward conspiratorially, and it's as though the several feet of long, auspicious table still separating them shrinks to mere inches. "What no one else has, or what only a king has. Each one is as unattainable as the other when you're not born to royalty, Highness."

"Lady Toghrul..." The title tastes like ashes in his mouth now. No mere Lady would seize a monopoly on half the olive trade in the world without anyone so much as noticing. But rangatira tastes of a dish too ancient and too rich for the likes of him, either.

Kihal holds his gaze. A revelation comes into her eyes - a decision made. "I could show you someday."

The servant moves away; Zen's sleeve is partially rescued. But his mouth is now terribly dry. He stares at her and wishes to all the gods that they hadn't dined alone, that the more general-purpose feast hall had not only been given to Kihal's entourage but that they two had manned the table's head instead of this - privacy. He feels driven through the woods, every root and bramble he's had to navigate a twist in a plan that he has no idea how to sidestep, because he unsuspecting has already blundered in too deeply.

"Show me what?" he asks her, wary.

Daring crackles in Kihal's eyes. Daring - and desperation.

It's only a flicker, there one moment and gone the next. But not all of Izana's lessons were ever lost on Zen, and he's just making the mental note when Kihal says, "What Yuris has, of course."

"My lady, did you come all this way with all of those men just to tease me?"

"Far be it from me to tease my prince."

Zen really wishes they hadn't dined alone. Or taken such strong wine with supper, when he'd received her bird and thought the vintage would impress her, a minor lady of a pretty dot of an island come to revisit old acquaintances in high places. He feels his flush in his toes. "Don't make promises you don't intend to keep."

"You seem eager for promises, gleaning them where none were made." She sips her wine as though she's read his mind, as though knowing he himself doesn't dare risk another drop, whether it be on his tongue or on his person. "But there's no reason to fear me, Your Highness."

"It'll take more than even the most clever of olive traders to frighten me, my lady."

"Good." Without further ado, she throws back the rest of her wine, hair unfurling in a lush cascade behind her before she slaps the goblet back down. "I've come to extend to you a business proposition."

"Not more olives, I hope."

Kihal's mouth parts first in surprise, then poises to laugh. She stops herself before she can, but the unwillingness just makes Zen smile the wider. "No, I - no olives, Highness, merely -"

The doors to the dining hall burst open.

Zen scowls and rises to his feet, holding out a hand to stay Kihal before she can rise, too. A steward comes scrambling through the open doors first, eyes wide. "Your Highness, he demanded he see you at once, I couldn't stop him -"

"What is the meaning of this?" Zen rumbles. An effect he'd thought he'd perfected over the years, but judging by Kihal's bemused sideways glance, maybe not perfected -

A mean rail of a man comes stomping through the doors not an instant later, cape billowing, fists clenched, face flushed. Fresh off his horse, by the looks of him. The steward remembers his duties only once the man has stormed past him and he hastens to pipe up, "Your Highness - ah, my lady - the Vi -"

"Your Highness Zen!" cries the man, stopping at the opposite end of the table. But that's as far as he gets. Kihal's presence grabs his attention, and he turns his head to look at her, possibly to apologize for the outburst. But Zen, his heart already sinking, knows he won't.

Viscount Blaker takes one look at Kihal, and all the color in his face drains away.

Kihal, nonchalant and perfectly at ease, raises her empty goblet to him. "My lord," she says cheerfully, haughtily enough that a stranger might have guessed the castle and half of Clarines to be hers, and Zen her visitor. "What a pleasant and complete surprise to see you here."

It's a sudden, powerful reminder of the girl she had once been. Haughtiness and pride still there in spades, but the trembling and the tears had all but deserted her. Only the reminder proves that they had once been a part of her at all. Zen can only look between her and Blaker with burgeoning dismay. As sure as a nasty fall off the castle ramparts will kill you, he knows his explanation is coming.

Then, shaking, Blaker levels a finger at Kihal's face, his rage almost overpowering his faculties of speech. Almost. "Your Highness," he snarls, "this woman -"

Zen's and Kihal's next course, unsurprisingly, goes cold.

"Most of that ridiculous list was claptrap and we both know it," Zen snaps. "You didn't have to plead guilty to treason."

"I'm an honest woman," Kihal says, prim. "Treason is my intention. And you should have sent a representative instead of coming here yourself. People will talk."

Zen paces in furious circles around Kihal's chair. It had been the work of a key and a pair of guards to transform her rooms into a temporary holding cell, but still, cell or not, being alone with her in her chambers puts Zen on edge. As does Blaker and all his victorious leering. As does the entirety of the court, their glistening hairstyles, the clack of painted heels on stone, their hands to their lips and their scandalized expressions. As does everything that's even vaguely been a part of Zen's life in the last twenty-four hours.

And how had Kihal known Blaker was riding for the capitol? How had she arrived first?

A decade ago, he would've been over the castle walls and miles without their other side by now. No point in aching for the past.

"You want Blaker and his people off your island, fine!" Zen rails. "We handle it the same way we did last time. An entry of a formal complaint by you, a contest from him, and we strike some agreement." Kihal snorts as wildly as a horse, but he plows ahead. "It's better than, than trying to secede without any warning. And posting fighters around your village! What did they wield, fish spears? Blaker is still your liege lord and now he can claim he feared for his life! Now there are people out there who want your head. What kind of fool does -"

Kihal launches to her feet, sending her chair skittering on one leg. She's lucky to come past Zen's chin, but with the cloak thrown over her bed, she's in her deep turquoise dress overlain with a thin skirt and interwoven with grass, her belt and clasp of iridescent stone - she's lovely, but even with stronger, wider arms and frame than Zen is used to seeing at court, even with the dire promise in her face to end his words for good if he so much as speaks another one, she is perilously small, prone to slipping between fingers, and prone to breaking underfoot.

"You will not finish that thought, sir." Her eyes are too wide with fury. "Formal complaint. I could stick these stupid hairpins in your heart for that alone. I submitted my formal complaints, half a dozen of them over two years. You will not speak." Zen had opened his mouth, disbelieving, and now he helplessly closes it. "I don't want Blaker off my island, I want him and his family and all his friends banished from it forthwith and tried for their crimes!"

"When he's committed -" Kihal tries to raise her voice to cut him off, I said you will not speak, and Zen, like they're in some verbal game of stack-fist, just talks louder. "When he's committed a crime, I promise you he'll be tried for it. In the meantime, for the rest of the court, you'll have to explain yourself in plain -"

"I thought I'd explained myself seven times over already."

"The court doesn't see things the way you do. All they understand after today is that islanders are marrying Blaker's family and friends, and there is nothing incriminating about that."

"Marrying -!" Kihal laughs bitterly. A thick lock of hair has fallen over her face, lending her a feral, unpredictable air. "He's building his houses on our beaches and playing his games with his friends, fine. But he's making every young woman he can find on Yuris a proposal of marriage to any partway wealthy Wistalian lout in debt to him that he can get his hands on. As for the Yuris men, I've never seen Wistalian women given such dowries, to marry men of no status, no means! Nothing I say can make all my people stay away from them."

Zen's discomfort is turning his hands and lips oddly numb. "There's no law against marrying people up in life, Lady Toghrul."

"Blaker and his connections will own half of Yuris within the year! What will one more year bring? Not a single Yuris child to hold the island and its traditions for their own generation."

"He's your liege lord -"

"Sworn to protect the island and its people, not to own them!"

"He's your liege lord, and so the solution is less than obvious, but we can find one!" Zen's palms itch to hold her shoulders, make her stop looking at him like he's the enemy she's castigating. "Blaker's smart and he has at least some of the court in his pocket. He knows what he can and can't get away with. But he's also petty. All of this is clearly reactionary to the birds from years ago, we can use that. We just need more time..."

Kihal is shaking her head.

"I understand your plight even if the court doesn't," Zen says desperately. He steps closer, proximity working to enforce his words. "I won't let Yuris fall into Blaker's hands this way, I swear it."

"You had your chance to so swear two years ago," she says icily. "With the first of your formal complaints. Where were you then?"

"There were - there were pressing matters -"

"Ah yes, the rebels hiding in the northern mountains. None of whom you ever so much as saw, much less caught, as I recall. And the problem isn't Yuris falling into Blaker's hands. Yuris is already in Blaker's hands. That's been clear enough since the day he killed his first bird." Kihal draws herself up to her full height, chin up. "He would erase my people and our culture from existence. Scrub them from the earth. Well, my people have been on this earth for a thousand years, and we are going to stay on this earth for a thousand years more, Your Highness, and I'm going to make it so."

"Your business proposition," Zen says hollowly.

Suddenly she darts forward and lays a hand on his forearm. He's sure if he tries to pull away, she'll just hold him in place. A part of him is already missing her charms from the other day - that's an intensity he can at least blame the wine on. This is a furious current, dragging him out to sea with her.

"Forget Blaker," she tells him fiercely, looking up into his face. "He's a snake and Wistal is better off without his so-called loyalty. Banish him and his family and friends from Yuris according to my terms, and Wistal gets a double share in all of Yuris' ventures, public and private, from now until the day either the Wisteria or the Toghrul name is nothing but dust in the soil, may neither ever come to pass. Leave Blaker to do as he likes, and Yuris is lost to both me and you."

Zen watches her, the vehement hope in her expression. That edge of desperation returning. He tries to imagine it - plucking lords and ladies from their positions at his will, Wistal a hotbed of whispers and paranoia for the duration of his and Izana's reign.

Worse, he wants to do it. Blaker made Shirayuki jump off a tower years ago and he needs no more reason than that to want to tear him up by the roots, and gods, he'd thought he was better at this after so many years.

"What of Yuris doesn't Wistal have, that it would want?"

"I said I'd show you."

"And what if the Toghrul line was to one day change its mind?"

"Toghrul will be yours until Toghrul's end, I swear it by every god there is between us, so long as Yuris is assigned no fool liege lord."

"That wasn't part of your proposition, my lady."

"I implied it, Your Highness."

Kihal's hand is curled around his arm now. They stare at each other, and Zen likes to think it's in equal defiance. Though when a pebble pushes against a boulder and still neither moves, how can the effort on the two sides be at all equal?

He wonders who now is the pebble, and who the boulder.

"And what if Wistal refuses you?" Zen asks quietly.

Kihal's lashes hardly even flicker. "Then Yuris secedes without further conversation, and I march on the capitol with five thousand men."

It's later that same day that Zen stands stiffly on the castle steps while he watches Kihal and her entourage ride back toward Koto and their ship - it won't sail yet, not for a few more days at least, but the citizens of Yuris no longer trust Wistalian accomodations.

Kihal doesn't even look back.

Lord Haruka beside him sucks in a long, loud breath. "When will they return?"

"The day after tomorrow."

"Then we're leaving them nearly two days to scheme unsupervised."

"Your opinion is blunt as always, my lord."

Haruka snorts. "And what, might I ask, shall we do for two days?"

The last horse in the fleeing entourage is little more than a dust trail wafting pale into the evening air. Zen rubs his knuckles thoughtfully over the seams of his jacket. "Lady Toghrul wasted no opportunities reminding me just how uninformed I am about my own realm," he says. "We will read."

#answeek2018 #day1 #akagami no shirayukihime #kihal/zen #kihal toghrul #zen wisteria #infinitelystrangemachinex #my writing

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ruleofexception · 6 years ago

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Save Me (Damned Universe, Zenyuki)

“There-” panting, drawing in heavy breaths of air so damp she feels as though she might drown, Shirayuki points to the crumbling skyline on the horizon, “-see?”

Squinting and wiping sweat from her brow, Yuzuri casually slings her gun over her shoulder and nods, “Yeah, I see. What’re you thinking? Another day? Two?”

“One, if we’re lucky.”

Fishing her waterskin from her pack, she fights off a grimace when a less than desirable amount of liquid sloshes around inside, and takes a sip. It does nothing to quench her thirst. It hardly wets her lips, but she can’t afford to be greedy. Not now.

Not when Wistal is so close.

Another sip, a sigh and she readjusts her bag just in time to hear a symphony of screams, guttural groans and clicking rising in the distance. Yuzuri curses under her breath, readies the gun and looks to her, fear pulling her brows tight.

Heart in her throat, Shirayuki withdraws her blade, gripping the handle until her knuckles ache, and forces a grim smile. “Two if we run into trouble.”

The blade feels foreign in her hand. Clunky.

“I don’t think I’m holding it right.” Frowning and peeling her fingers away from the wooden handle, she holds it out to Opa to inspect; his eyes crinkle with his smile.

“You’re holding it fine, little Yuki.” The weight from her palm lifts when he picks up the knife, gaze softening as he appraises the sharp edges and worn handle. Only a moment passes before it’s resting back in her trembling hand. “You’re just afraid of it.”

Pride stinging, she curls her fingers around the handle once more and points it at him. The tip wobbles in her uncertain grasp, but her voice doesn’t shake like she expects. “Am not.”

“Sure, peanut.” Chuckling, he winks and moves to walk past her, “Just remember, it’s here to protect you. To keep you safe.”

“That’s why I have you and Oma, though.” her nose wrinkles as he tousles her hair, but there’s something about the slight pause as he does it - how his hand rests a little too long atop her head - that has her stomach in knots.

The blade suddenly feels entirely too heavy in her hand.

“Poor bastard.” Yuzuri pokes the butt of her gun at the remains of what was once a person - now, nothing more than a shredded pile of rotting flesh and moldy clothes. “Not even enough of him to turn.”

“Probably for the best. Anything is better than turning.”

The bite on her shoulder heats uncomfortably and she digs her fingers into her palms before dragging her gaze from the gruesome scene. Beating down haunting memories, she chews at her lip and looks skyward to where the sun seems intent on melting the very pavement they stand on.

They’d made it to the outer city limits, with minimal issues. Only a couple of lone Damned, stumbling about in the long-grass. Though, she suspects that the lack of infected in this area has everything to do with the screams they’d heard earlier.

“True.” Yuzuri stomps up beside her, boots squishing with what she hopes is mud, but knows it’s more likely to be remains, and sighs, “I just hope when it’s my time to go, I at least get to choose, you know? I think I’d want a bullet in my brain. Something quick. Not, you know… that.”

Fear of losing Yuzuri gnaws sharply at her belly and Shirayuki can’t find it in herself to justify her friend’s musings with a response, so instead, she gestures to the rusted, twisting fire escape latched onto the wall of the boarded up building in front of them. “Think you can boost me up there?”

Humming briefly, Yuzuri shrugs. “Sure, should be doable… Why?”

“Because-” Looking to her friend, she chuckles and gestures to her sweat stained shirt, “- we can’t stay out in this heat for much longer. We’ll start smelling like dinner.”

“Gross, but, good point.” Laughing, screwing up her face, Yuzuri moves into position beneath the fire escape and rids herself of her pack and gun before nodding that she’s ready; as her sneaker slips into Yuzuri’s hands, the girl gives a long sigh, “Promise, if something happens, you’ll do it quick? A bullet or a blade, something, I just… I don’t want to suffer like them. Okay?”

She gets the feeling they’re not talking about the pieces of man-jerky spread across the pavement behind them. Judging from the pain barely concealed behind Yuzuri’s bright eyes, she’s talking about her family. About the horrible screams that must fill her nightmares.

Squeezing her friend’s shoulder, she tries to keep her voice steady despite the emotions running rampant through her; it’s all she can do to choke out a quiet, “Okay.”

Relaxing slightly, Yuzuri nods upwards and lifts her with a grunt and a threat, “And... if you ever let me turn, the first person I eat, will be you.”

“Fair enough.” Groaning, she stretches, fingers barely brushing against the rusted, bottom-most rung.

She only has to look down at Yuzuri’s puffed out, reddening cheeks, for her to give a harsh laugh. “Fuck. Okay…. Up we... go.”

A shaky dip, another grunt, a quick thrust up and she’s airborne.

The ground is hard. Unforgiving.

Teeth sink into her shoulder. Agony ignites her veins.

A piercing scream rips its way out of her throat, against her will.

It’s greeted with the horrifying calls of more monsters.

The creature writhing about on top of her - tearing into the flesh of her shoulder - is small. Half her size.

Still, she seems incapable of ridding herself of it.

The knife in her hand does nothing. It doesn’t protect her. Doesn’t do what she tells it to. But she tries. She tries to stab at its back. At its fungal plated neck.

Nothing works.

And all she can do is scream.

The walls of Wistal loom before them. Dark, cold and unforgiving.

Shirayuki almost shivers.

It’s been a couple years now, that she’s been this far south. That she’s stood before Wistal. She’d nearly forgotten just how immense the city is; Lyrias and the entirety of Wilant could fit within its walls, with room to spare.

And although she’d only gotten a glimpse of what’s behind the walls, years ago, it’s easy to imagine how it would have been, before the end of the world. Before the infection spread and brought the downfall of humankind.

Wistal would have been a spectacular sight, she imagines. A shining city, mighty and proud. With crowded, colourful streets. Festivals almost every month. A real cultural hub. Somewhere, where people from all over would gather and celebrate.

Now, all that’s left are ruins. Crumbling buildings. Scattered remains.

And the Damned.

Yuzuri groans and takes a seat at the edge of the roof. Legs dangling carelessly over the ledge as she stares up at the battered and scarred wall. “This is where you found Ryuu, right?”

“Yeah.” not daring to look at Yuzuri for fear the sudden ache in her throat will turn to tears, she shuffles her feet and points to where the wall curves and disappears into the heavy haze hanging in the air. “I think we were on the south side of Wistal’s walls though. Spent about a month camped out there, waiting for his family to return.”

Yuzuri whistles softly, “You think they’re…”

The question hangs heavily in the air, making it even more difficult to breathe. Anger simmers beneath her skin. “I don’t know. I hope, for Ryuu’s sake, that they are.”

“Really?” Surprise colours her voice and Shirayuki can feel Yuzuri’s eyes burning into her. Watching her carefully.

Keeping her lip from trembling, she kicks the toe of her sneaker into the roof, “If they’re dead, then there’s a reason they never returned for him.” a quick pause, a deep breath and she steels herself, turning to look at Yuzuri; she all but growls, “But, if they abandoned him, then they’re monsters far worse than any Damned.”

Yuzuri doesn’t say anything more, she only nods in understanding and goes back to looking up at the wall.

Releasing her, the monster shrieks.

But shrieks quickly turn into wet gurgles and it slumps forward again, oozing thick, scalding ichor onto her. Everywhere it touches, it feels like her skin is blistering.

Shirayuki whimpers, but doesn’t try to move. She’s tired. Exhausted. And her shoulder hurts more than anything she’s known. It burns, like somehow she has a fire trapped beneath her skin.

When the weight is pulled from her, she tries to scream again, thinking another one of the monsters has come to finish her off, but a hand slaps down over her mouth, abruptly snuffing out her cries.

Oma hovers above her, jaw set tight and panic running wild in her eyes. She shakes her head once, urging her to be quiet. Heart about ready to tear itself from her chest, Shirayuki grinds her teeth down and swallows hard.

She knows better than to scream when those things are near. All her life, she’s been told not to scream.

But, when it came down to it - when it mattered most - she couldn’t stop herself.

The hand over her mouth slowly peels away and she takes a shaky breath. Her throat is raw.

There’s something dripping from Oma’s forehead, but Shirayuki can’t tell if it’s the blood of that monster or if she’s wounded - before she can ask, Oma grabs her bicep with a slick hand and hauls her to her feet, “Are you oka-”

“It bit me.” her voice wobbles and tears well up as Oma’s fingers tighten around her; face paling as she eyes her shoulder, she curses under her breath.

Hand sliding from her arm, Oma grabs her hand. Her fingers tremble, “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’ll be okay, we’ll figure it out. Opa’s right ove-” stopping herself short as something in the bushes starts to click, she yanks Shirayuki close and mouths, “Knife?”

Not trusting that her words won’t come out as more screams, she nods, holding up the blade, stained dark with the blood from the infected she’d been attacked by. Oma nods and yanks her own blade from its sheath, again; wielding it in her free hand.

Another series of clicks and screeches grates against her ears.

Oma tugs at her hand, pulling her towards where the undergrowth thickens, but stops once more, when branches crack and a guttural growl follows.

Eyes wide, fear making her movements jittery, Shirayuki scans the woods.

Shadows stumble in between the trees.

More clicks. A shriek. Something falls to the earth with an inhuman wail. A second shadow veers towards the noise.

There are too many to count. Each patch of dim forest she searches, only seems to turn up more twitching shadows.

Soon, the noise swells, filling the forest with the eerie sounds of infected.

Oma doesn’t even try to keep her curse under her breath.

Stretching, she stifles a yawn and drags her gaze from the hints of orange and yellow rising up into the sky. Morning always comes too quick when they’re out, beyond the safe walls of Lyrias; but it’s better to be awake and tired than torn to ribbons and dying.

Would have been nice to get 5 more minutes rest before climbing through old sewers, though.

“Hunters?” Yuzuri wrinkles her nose and readjusts her grip on the gun, pointing it towards the large metal grate laying in a twisted heap beside the abyss-like opening; it’s still attached to the ancient vehicle used to rip it from its concrete housing.

“I don’t think so. The vehicle isn’t modded at all. Probably hasn’t run since the outbreak.” Stooping down to duck into the pipeline, flashlight in hand, she has to refrain from smiling when there’s the telltale squelch of boots slipping into something questionable, followed by Yuzuri issuing a disgruntled curse behind her. “Besides, there was no sign of hunters the last time I was here. But, you should know-” trying to turn in the tight space, she grimaces and gestures in front of them, “- in there is where Ryuu and I were attacked by a pack of hounds. If you want, you can wait for me he-”

“Fuck that.” Yuzuri looks appalled and waves her onwards, “I’m not waiting in some stinky-ass tunnel while you go exploring. Hounds or not, I’m coming with you.”

“Okay.” Admiring her friend’s bravery, she shrugs and turns, making slow progress through the cramped tube. There’s no point in arguing.

“Plus, what if you find some really awesome shit in there? I can’t let you take it all.” Yuzuri sighs dreamily, “Think they had an armoury? ‘Cause mama needs herself a new toy.”

Biting back a giggle, afraid the sound will bounce through the tunnels and draw a pack over and into the tight space, she shakes her head dramatically, “Of course you do.”

Yuzuri snorts, “Look, I know we’re here to search for that Pharmacy you read about, but, I’m just saying, seems like a waste to come all this way and only look for drugs.” her tone changes and Shirayuki can practically feel Yuzuri’s waggling eyebrows, “What’s the harm in doing a little bit of shopping? You said yourself there’s no hunters, so maybe there’s some good shit in here.”

“I said that it didn’t look like hunters had been here, but that was years ago, Yuzuri.” continuing to pick her way through the muck, she attempts to squash the brief glimmer of hope that flutters in her chest; it’s proving difficult to do, especially when the only footprints left in the grime are their own. No sign that humans or Damned had been through here. “The whole place could be crawling with them by now.”

“So?” exasperated, Yuzuri borders on whining, “It could also have a fully stocked department store, armoury and liquor store, and we’ll never know unless-”

“Okay, okay, jeez. Twist my arm why don’t you.” hands up in a mock surrender, she reigns in her new-found excitement and begins to make a mental list on what to keep an eye out for; of course, her first thought goes to the young boy waiting for her back in Lyrias. To his rapidly depleting pile of clothes that somewhat fit and aren’t full of holes. “Ryuu could use another shirt or sweater.”

“Ouu, girl, we could all use another shirt and sweater. Anything I should keep my eyes open for, for you?” the tunnel starts to open up a little more and widen, allowing for more headroom and Yuzuri strolls up alongside her to elbow her playfully, “Personally, I’m hoping I can find a cute-ass dress. Maybe a man or two. The ones in Lyrias are all… meh.”

Yuzuri cackles as Shirauki grins and shoves her, “Jeans. Just jeans and an oversized sweater. Maybe a book if we pass any shops that haven’t been ravaged by rain.”

“You’re sure? I mean, it’s a big city, I’m sure there are dudes around here somewhere. Maybe hiding in the rubble...” As they exit the sewer and enter the city, Yuzuri, who’s nearly laughing herself silly, stops short and inhales sharply; eyebrows just about disappearing into her hairline. “Whoa.”

The quiet ruins of Wistal glimmer before them in the morning light; decaying white walls tower over them, still glossy enough to be blinding, but clearly not as radiant as they had once been.

This is nothing more than the littered husk of what this once glorious city was. And, standing here, gazing upon the crumbling spires and archways, she’s reminded of wonderful, historic photos she’s seen. Photo upon photo, portraying a city that looked as though it was built for the gods.

Perhaps, the people who had resided here - the ones who had ruled the whole of Clarines - thought themselves gods. Perhaps, that is what had been their undoing.

Just like Icarus, they’d flown too close to the sun; only, when their wings had melted and they began to plunge to their death, they’d brought the rest of humanity with them.

“Run, Shirayuki.” Oma’s hand is hot and slick where it’s wrapped around hers; her voice soft but urgent, as she continues to drag her through the undergrowth. “You need to keep running, come on, sweetheart.”

Shirayuki’s shoulder continues to burn. The flames spread down her arm. Across her chest. Thorns catch at her skin and pull at her clothes. A sob is caught somewhere in her throat while her legs carry her numbly behind her grandmother. “But, Opa, he-”

“Please-” the word is a soft hiss; it’s as close to tears as she’s ever seen her, “-don’t. We just need to run, now.”

She tries to look behind her. To twist and see where the shout had come from. But everything is blurry and panic has her breaths coming out in short, harsh pants. “The monsters-”

“Shirayuki, don’t.” Oma tugs at her hand, pulling her attention back to the dark path ahead of them, “Don’t look back. Run.”

A thorn pulls across her cheek and her tears are quick to mix with the fresh blood welling up from the cut; she struggles to pull her hand from Oma’s and fights to control the horrendous wail building up in her lungs. “We can’t leave Opa, the monsters will get him!”

Yanking her to a stop, Oma grabs her shoulders and hunches down, eyes watering, “Opa is gone. You know what happens when someone shouts and those damned things are around.” the clicking is getting close again and Oma’s face pinches, “Now are you going to run or do I have to carry you?”

Chest heaving, lip wobbling uncontrollably, she shakes her head and allows Oma’s hand to wrap back around hers. Not a second later, they’re hurtling through the undergrowth again; Opa’s final call through the trees for them to run, echos painfully through her mind, bringing with it a fresh wave of tears.

The city is abandoned.

Normally, that would go without saying - nearly everywhere is abandoned and in a state of decay. But, Wistal is really abandoned. They’ve been galavanting around all morning and, aside from a couple of rotting corpses and a single hound, they’ve been free to chat and pilfer at leisure. No interruptions or scares.

It’s been kind of… nice.

“Darling, I’ve found all of these marvellous accessories-” Yuzuri dramatically throws herself against the large support column, brings a gloved hand up to rest over her forehead and shimmies down slightly; the oversized scarf she’d snagged, bunches up around her neck to obscure half of her face, while the massive sunglasses she’d found, hide the rest. “-and still not a gun or man in sight. Oh, woe be me.”

“I think it’s woe is me.” Snorting, Shirayuki stretches up onto her toes and starts to rummage through the piles of denim, hoping, against all odds that there might be something here that could fit Ryuu; she’d already managed to find two pairs of jeans for herself. But she’s not the one still growing. “And don’t worry, we’ll find you a new toy. There’s gotta be some kind of weapons hold around here.”

Sauntering up beside her, Yuzuri leans casually against the shelf and drags the glasses down so she can peer overtop of the large frames. “Don’t tease me. Promise we’ll get toys on the way out?”

“Yes, I promise.” laughing a little breathlessly, she grabs onto what she hopes is the bottom pair of jeans and yanks; a heavy shower of denim falls down around them and she grins, “Now, can you at least help me look through these? The faster we find pants for Ryuu, the faster we’ll be able to go looking for the pharmacy and your toys.”

Shedding the scarf and sunglasses, Yuzuri winks, drops down to her knees and starts tossing jeans over her shoulder, “I do like me some drugs and toys.”

Everything burns. It makes her want to writhe about on the ground. But, Oma holds her still when it becomes too much.

The damp piece of fabric laying across her forehead does nothing to alleviate the heat building up within her.

Just like the salve on her shoulder does nothing to ease the excruciating pain.

She wants to ask Oma if she’s alright. If the blood that had been dripping down her forehead and coated her hands, days ago, was hers or the creatures. But the words don’t come and Oma doesn’t speak.

Shirayuki tries to remember if she’d spoken at all, over the past few days. She doesn’t think she has. Not since they’d left the forest and stumbled upon this old mill; even then, all Oma had asked her is where she’d been bitten.

The rest of their time has passed in silence.

And, no matter how bad the pain gets, Shirayuki doesn’t scream. Screaming means those things might come back.

Screaming means she might lose Oma, too.

‘Like a kid in a candy store.’

It’s a saying Shirayuki had read - or maybe heard - somewhere, a long time ago. Perhaps when she’d still been in Tanbarun and candy was just a rare treat her Opa would magically pull from behind her ear to make her laugh.

That must be it. Just something her grandparents told her, that managed to stick. Stick, just like those rock-hard candies pulled from behind her ear, that would glue her teeth together.

And it’s always been a saying that she’d never truly understood. Never really got what it was supposed to mean - until now.

Standing at the entrance, she damn near drops her pack in her awe. Rows upon rows. Shelves upon shelves. All of them, filled with different medicines and healing supplies.

It’s incredible. Beautiful, even.

Yuzuri stops dead beside her, “Is all of that…”

“Yup.” Shirayuki wants to cry. It’s practically untouched. All of it, just sitting here for the taking.

Breezing by her, already opening her pack as she goes, Yuzuri whistles and disappears down an aisle. “Damn.”

“Yup.” Laughing and taking a tentative step further inside, still unsure if she’s simply imagining it, she slips her pack from her shoulders and peeks around one of the shelves; the aisle seems to go on forever. Ending in a… a real pharmacy.

Prescriptions. Heavy medications. Things that could save lives.

She’s halfway down the aisle before she can think twice; fingers trailing along dusty shelves, eyes flitting from boxes and bottles, trying to take inventory of what they could use, if she still has room in her pack after ransacking the pharmacy storeroom at the back. Maybe there’s an extra bag in here, somewhere, that she can take and fill to the brim.

It would be worth it, even if it meant a longer, slower trip home and a sore back. To have even a fraction of what’s lining these shelves would help countless people for years to come.

A couple rows over, Yuzuri starts to giggle gleefully, “This is wild. Honestly, I’d been thinking we’d get a couple bottles of Asprin at most. It’s like no one’s been here though. Fuck, there’s still food over here... I mean, not like I’m complaining, but how come no one’s totally gutted the place?”

Hopping the counter with a grunt, Shirayuki startles when something collapses beneath her foot. Grimacing, expecting she’ll have to scrape the gooey remains of a mouse from her shoe, she lifts her foot only to find the culprit is far from a rodent. “Well -” stooping down to retrieve the crushed, empty box of Tylenol-3, she waves it about thoughtfully and slowly moves towards the back storeroom, “- we’re certainly not the first ones to come here.”

“How do you know?” There’s a sharp edge to Yuzuri’s voice and Shirayuki gets the feeling that her friend is now on high alert. Gun likely up and scanning the aisles as she makes her way through the store towards her. “You find something? Or someone?”

“Just an empty box of Tylenol, but...” Frowning as she rounds the corner, she drops the box in favour of fishing out her flashlight. There’s something dark pooled out across the floor and her stomach clenches. Swallowing hard, free hand releasing her blade from the sheath at her side, she bites her tongue.

The hair along the back of her neck prickles.

Yuzuri’s gone quiet. Likely sensing the same thing she is.

Something isn’t quite right.

Crouching down, dipping a finger into the sticky liquid beneath her shoes, her nose wrinkles when she sniffs it.

Smells like… ichor.

Common sense tells her to turn back. To leave the storeroom. Leave the pharmacy and get as far away from this place as she possibly can.

But it’s not fresh. It’s gone stale. Cold.

There was a Damned in here at one point. A wounded one. However, the ichor doesn’t even burn her fingers as she rubs them together, smearing the dark liquid and staining her skin.

Chewing at her lip, she straightens and continues towards the back of the room. When she’s just about to move onto the next aisle, Yuzuri’s voice cuts through the silence. “Hey. Can you come here. Slowly, please?”

It’s shrill. Clipped. But she’s not whispering, which means the threat is the living.

A hunter.

Panic flows sharply through her and Shirayuki bites back a curse. Of course there’s a hunter here. The city is huge. How foolish they’d been to believe they were alone. Gritting her teeth, she tentatively heads back through the storeroom. Towards Yuzuri.

Maybe she can barter with them. If they’re wounded, she could trade her skills as a healer, for Yuzuri’s life. Or she might have some ammo left at the bottom of her bag. The last of her rations, too.

She’ll trade anything for Yuzuri’s life. Even her own, if that’s what it takes.

Shutting off her flashlight, flipping her knife to tuck it up and into her sleeve, letting it rest casually against her forearm, she half raises her hands in surrender and turns the corner.

Yuzuri stands on the other side of the counter, arms raised and looking entirely pissed.

A man stands behind her. Weapon hidden from sight, but judging from the height of his arm and the tenseness of Yuzuri’s shoulders, he’s got something pressed to the back of her head. She really has no interest in finding out just what kind of weapon he’s got jammed up against her best-friend’s skull, though.

Tread with caution, Shirayuki. One wrong move and Yuzuri’s brains could splatter the walls.

Doing a quick scan of what she can see of the man, a small bubble of hope blossoms in her chest and almost escapes her in a relieved sort of hysterical laugh; his face may be hidden beneath his hood, but along his left ribs, his shirt is stained with red. The material clings thickly to him.

Lowering her hands, she walks fearlessly towards the counter. “You’re hurt. Badly.” Yuzuri growls angrily and tries to shrink away as his hand, resting heavily on her shoulder, tightens. “Left side. Near your ribs. What happened?”

He doesn’t move. Even as she hops the counter and comes to a slow stop before them, he doesn’t move. The knife hidden against her forearm hums, wanting to be withdrawn. Wanting to bury itself in his forehead. To put an end to this right now.

But, even though he appears to be alone, she can’t be certain. This could all be a trap.

Then again, if it is a trap, then she likely would have been ambushed by now; safe to assume that his own would have left him behind the moment it became apparent he wasn’t going to bounce back in a day. Best to treat him like the wounded hunter he is. Give him something he wants. Something he needs.

“Look, I’ll make a deal with you.” Standing tall, trying to keep her voice from shaking, she curls her fingers so they bite into her palms.“Let her go and I’ll treat your wounds.” Yuzuri glares a warning at her, but she ignores it. “I guarantee, my methods will do a lot more to heal you than a couple of Tylenol-3′s. All you have to do is let her go.”

A minute passes. Then two.

Finally, the man reaches up to cautiously remove his hood.

Beautiful silver hair tumbles forward to cover his forehead - but not before she notices a small trail of cracked and flaking blood winding down his temple. What other injuries is he walking around with? Ignoring? Honestly, depending on how old that side wound is, he’s lucky it hasn’t gone septic. Lucky that hounds haven’t sought him out to tear him apart.

Indigo eyes glint dangerously as he appraises her. “And why should I trust you?”

“Because, I think you’ll find that I’ve just offered to save your life.” before he has the chance to respond or question her further, she nods to Yuzuri, still held in place by the weapon poised to take her life, “A life for a life, right?”

If she didn’t know better, she’d say that a hint of a smile has spread across his dry lips. “Alright, Red, you’ve got yourself a deal... Save me and you’ll save her, too.”

Damned (Obiyuki)

#answeek2018 #day 7 #fire #ans #akagami no shirayukihime #zenyuki #(or at least it will be)#post apocalyptic au #damned universe #minor character death #somewhat gruesome #mild language #this got a LOT longer than I had planned #so here #take lots of lead-up and their meeting #at this point in time #Shirayuki is 17 (flashbacks she's 11)#Yuzuri and Ryuu both know about the bite #they all live in Lyrias #and there's this whole backstory I have in my head about this raid having been planned by Garrack and Shirayuki for almost a year #because the community had a REALLY rough winter (sickness. a collapsed outter wall. failed crops. just a real clusterfuck)#Shirayuki and Yuzuri go because they're old enough. Shirayuki lied about how long she'd really been in Wistal last time.#and the rest of the community is still trying to repair damages from the rough winter #anywaysssss #I know it's late #but I was busy this weekend #and work has been nuts #and this just turned into a monster of its own #*hops back in trash can*

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claudeng80 · 6 years ago

Text

Disgraces (Day 7, Fire)

Mihaya isn't afraid of anything.

He wants his title back so badly he can taste it, but it's not fear that drives him, but cold ambition. His father squandered his birthright, and he'll win it back.

If he were afraid, would he be here at the castle gates, demanding to speak with the prince? No, that's simple calculation. Great rewards come only to those who take great risks. Playing it safe has left him with nothing but sore hands and an empty stomach, and he’s done. He’s not cut out for hard work. It's time for a gamble. He’s due for something to finally go his way.

This time he’s counting on the prince's soft spot for the redhead. He’s not going to begrudge her a powerful patron, because if he had her assets, he’d do just the same, make all the use of them he could. The only question left is just how much her safety is really worth to the prince.

Things are looking up when Shirayuki’s name greases his entry into the castle even more than he’d expected. Even the gate guards are smitten with her. It doesn’t surprise him this time. She’s resourceful, she’s stubborn, and she makes an impression. He thought about her a lot in prison. He smiles, ever so helpful, and the gate guard smiles back and sends a message.

The aide who comes to meet him is much harder to read. She’s pretty, but the hilt on the sword bumping at her side is too well-worn to be merely decorative. He’ll tread carefully with this one, but even she softens when he hints at his purpose. Hope is just starting to set its hooks in his heart when he hears boots running behind them. “Kiki!”

Maybe he’s relaxed too soon. He's never heard that voice before, not exactly, but something about it is far too familiar. He can't be here in the castle. In prison, he’d believe, but here . . .

The blonde stops and turns, so there’s nothing Mihaya can do but follow, holding his breath in the fruitless hope of being mistaken. The voice continues, “Are you taking him-” Catlike gold eyes narrow and Mihaya’s hopes wither on the vine. Obi’s never been the forgiving type.

Yet for some reason, Obi doesn’t betray his recognition by more than the smallest hitch in his speech. “To see Master?”

“He says he has important information for Zen.”

“Does he.” Obi’s voice drips with suspicion. “I’ll join you.” Without a word or reaction, Kiki turns and continues. With every step, Mihaya trusts the peace and order of the castle to keep him safe with Obi in arm’s reach. Were they in a private place, he’d never turn his back. It’s basic caution.

But they can pretend not to know each other, if that’s the way Obi wants it. Not like he cares. Fine.

The second prince has a long memory and a short temper. Time should have tempered his reaction; Mihaya spent half a year in prison, after all, served his sentence with exemplary behavior. There’s really no need for all the shouting.

Watching Obi where he lurks in the shadows expends attention Mihaya shouldn’t be sparing, but it means he sees the moment Obi understands his history with Shirayuki. It’s rather unfair of the prince to bring it up, it was ages ago and no harm done in the end. It paints him in a negative light that’s entirely unwarranted, but of course Obi’s ready to believe the worst. The look on his face is dangerous as he waits, still as a cat, and the effort of maintaining his cool in the face of such hostility is starting to wear on Mihaya. It’s a relief when Zen sends Obi away.

The prince crosses his arms and waits, surly, and Mihaya can’t figure any way to ask him what he wants to know. Does the prince not understand what a viper he has in his employ? Baron Merrill had been deep in Mihaya’s father’s schemes and far less savvy at hiding his tracks, so much that when the Earl of Sisk merely had his wealth and titles stripped, Baron Merrill was executed. His title was erased from the records and his son cut free of all inheritance.

Mihaya had barely thought of him then, too busy trying to find some kind of stability in his own life, but if he’d been asked, he’d have thought Obi might have gone to the pirates his father conspired with. They’d made a pet of him when he was little, teaching him to climb and throw knives, tricks he’d brought back and tried to share. Mihaya’d never had the knack for either, one of many things Obi lorded over him.

He looks like a pirate these days, with his scars and knives and that sloppy jacket. Working in the castle, for the prince himself, and that’s the best he can do. He’s never had any kind of pride in his appearance.

Shirayuki’s skittish when Obi shows her through the door, but she looks much calmer after she meets the prince’s eyes. She takes her seat, and it’s unfortunate to see her so intimidated when he knows how magnificent she can be. People can’t be at their best all of the time, he supposes, eyes tracking Obi as he settles in behind Shirayuki’s chair to loom like a suit of armor with an unwavering glare.

The prince clears his throat, impatient, and Mihaya tears his gaze away from the threat. He says his piece, describing the boy looking for Shirayuki and the circumstances surrounding the meeting. He hates the port, the smells and the fish and every job he’s had to endure to make it this far, but it put him in the right place for this, gave him the opportunity to step up out of his state of despair. When the prince doesn’t suggest it, he makes a tactful comment about reasonable consideration for his efforts, and it’s hard to imagine any noble being so naive as to be offended by that, but the prince manages.

Honestly, it’s not like he’s asking for much, just a hand up to get him back on the path where he belongs. Some money he could use to invest, an introduction to the right group of wealthy marriageable women, a job with a decent level of prestige, surely the prince can do something.

Instead he finds himself in a cell, his escort from earlier even more inscrutable. “Don’t go anywhere,” she warns him, her earlier sliver of warmth snuffed out, but there’s nothing to worry about. In spite of everything, Mihaya’s just where he wants to be.

***

He’s less sure of that when Obi shows up to free him. “We're checking the port, monkey, and if you try to run off, I will bring you back tied up in your own ponytail.” Obi’s voice is like his father’s but his sneer isn’t. He must resemble the mother Mihaya never met and nobody ever mentioned.

Mihaya can overlook the threats. That’s part of the cost of doing business. The nickname hurts far more, assailing him with the unwelcome memory of a long afternoon in the woods, Obi lying on a tree branch imitating a panther he'd seen in a book, Mihaya bouncing on a vine and screeching with joy. They'd called each other cat and monkey after that until Mihaya’s father had put an end to it. “Nicknames are below your dignity, and so is that family.” He'd looked up at the Earl, so confused but willing to do anything to please his father. “They have their uses, but that boy is a bad influence and not worth your friendship.”

He’d tried, for at least a week, but empty halls and books held no appeal when he knew Obi was out there, somewhere, catching tadpoles in the creek or counting the eggs in the robins’ nests. The draw was irresistible. Only now he realizes that his father probably had Baron Merrill’s downfall planned all along. The earl never expected to take the punishment alongside his scapegoat, but nobody had anticipated Prince Izana.

Obi’s silent and wary, still waiting for his response. “Fine.” Mihaya turns away from Obi's inquiring stare. “Let's get this over with.”

Of course the pretty boy is nowhere to be found. Mihaya and Obi manage civil silence the first day, observing the crowds and speaking strictly for the exchange of information. Occasionally Obi points someone out, and Mihaya responds that “No, his hair is longer,” or “No, he's shorter than that.”

Obi finds a room at an inn seedy enough to suit him. Mihaya would sigh about it, but it has a bed, and those have been in short supply lately.

Of course, Obi claims the bed.

Civil tolerance can only last so long with that much history smoldering behind them. On the second day, Mihaya does no more than stumble, Obi sneers, and Mihaya is yelling before he even knows he’s opening his mouth. “You don’t have to look at me like that! It’s not like I even did anything to you, I was a victim too!”

Obi turns, where his steps had taken him past Mihaya. His face is still, like a dark lake with unspeakable monsters below the surface. “Blame you? However could I? Blame the one who lived when my family died, who kept his name and country when I lost everything? Oh no, of course I could never blame you for any of that.” The calm voice is infinitely worse than anger. It’s cold, sharp, and there is no escaping it.

But Mihaya is too far gone to regret his words or take a single one back. “It turned out all right for you, didn’t it? Which of us is the starving criminal, and which works for the prince?” Obi’s chest is rigid under his accusing fingers. “Doesn’t look like you’ve been missing meals.”

Mihaya tastes blood, biting his tongue as his head crashes against a wall. They’d been standing in the center of the street, and he has no clue how they crossed the distance save that his feet didn’t touch the ground. “You don’t get to judge me, monkey.” Obi’s grip just under his jaw keeps him from turning his head, and he can only just watch Obi’s face from the corner of his eye. Obi’s still far too calm for any of this to make sense, his voice a level hiss that makes Mihaya’s heart want to hide. It's not fear, but any amount of self-preservation would yield the same result. “You also don’t get to pretend you know anything about me, and you certainly don’t touch me.” His fingers tighten on Mihaya’s throat just enough to make it clear exactly who’s in charge of the situation, then he lets go.

Mihaya fights to stay upright, to keep from coughing or gasping or dropping to his knees. Obi doesn’t step away, still far too close for Mihaya to move without touching him. He isn't more than an inch taller, but somehow he looms like a giant. It takes every nerve Mihaya can muster to look past him, calmly adjust his scarf, and just wait, feigning calmness. He still can’t draw an easy breath until Obi turns and walks away.

It’s not as though he’s intimidated, but perhaps silence is the wisest approach. Mihaya seethes as he watches Obi try on face after face, cheerful to apologetic to subservient as he spins tales for the residents of the port. It’s mystifying, why he’d choose to play these games when he has all the power of the castle behind him, why he casts a line over and over when he could be dragging a net through the town. Mihaya snarls at himself for that vulgar metaphor. The point is that this could be going a whole lot faster.

It would be going faster, if Obi would just put some effort into it. His breath catches as a terrible idea worms its way into his mind. The way Obi looked at Shirayuki in the castle was gentle, protective even beyond how he was with the prince. It would be a risky way to turn her head, letting her be kidnapped. Surely the prince couldn’t put himself at risk, his aides would have to search her out, and Obi could be the hero who rides to her rescue.

It’s not a very good plan, but a man in love competing with a prince who has everything might be just desperate enough.

So he watches Obi with a different eye the next time he complains about the pace. The answering abuse is nearly routine now, just insults to his scarf and threats to send him away. He’d like that, wouldn’t he, if he were trying to hide something?

“With those looks and that foul mouth, it’s hard to believe you serve in the castle,” Mihaya answers, because it would look suspicious if he didn’t. But he’s a little troubled, anyway. Obi makes every show of being the loyal retainer, takes every chance to guard the relationship between Shirayuki and the prince. Of all the things that could anger him, that’s what does it? What leverage must the prince have on Obi to get him to act this way?

He’d like to point out that coming between those two is the last thing he wants, because if the prince doesn’t want her then Mihaya’s assistance is worthless, but Obi’s in a vicious mood now. It’s not worth trying to talk to him when he’s like this.

It’s a bit disappointing how much Obi sounds like his father. Just thinking of Baron Merrill and his sharp tongue still sends chills down Mihaya’s back. Not fear, just the memory of being small and powerless in front of someone who relished his power far too much. He and Obi both had been happier when they managed to avoid the baron’s notice.

Not that anyone else noticed Mihaya either. His brothers had no time for him and his father had no interest, preoccupied with issues far more important than one bored boy. Obi was his only friend, until he went off to school and Mihaya was alone, unsuspecting, until the king’s officers came and took everyone away.

The inn doesn't improve with familiarity. When Mihaya wakes up on the floor in the middle of the night to flop painfully into new positions, Obi isn't even in the room. The door is locked, the window cracked open. It’s like he’s asking Mihaya to sneak out and disappear. Too bad. Mihaya will not give him the satisfaction.

It’s been nearly a week now they’ve had nothing to do but search and sleep and argue. Surely the boy is gone, this is a waste of everyone’s time. Smug one morning at the evidence that even on the floor, he’s sleeping better than Obi, Mihaya ventures a personal question. “How did the prince react to finding out who you were?”

If he'd waited until after Obi's coffee, he probably never would have had an answer. As it is, it comes in a flinch and a blankness, not in words at all. “He doesn't know?” That’s a lever he hadn't expected. Obi is actually lying to the prince. “But how-” And what is wrong with this prince anyway? How can he trust someone without knowing who he is?

Obi just grunts, dismissing the question unanswered. Mihaya should have expected no less.

Midmorning, they cross paths with a troupe of players. A crowd has gathered, slowing traffic to a crawl through the square. Mihaya and Obi should be scanning the crowd for long hair crowning a danger to Shirayuki, but the play itself catches Mihaya’s attention. Not the plot, for sure, there’s no telling what’s going on, but one of the players looks stunningly familiar.

Obi’s voice is incredulous. “She looks just like-”

“Blacksmith Li.” Mihaya finishes the sentence, and when his smile meets Obi’s eyes, just for a moment, his friend is there again. They’d gone together to beg Li to take them as apprentices, thinking they were so grown up for taking their fate in their own hands. He realized now that her stunned silence was less impressed with their initiative and more scrambling for a way to turn them down without offending anyone who could have her ruined.

“Hey,” comes a voice from near Obi’s elbow. A kid hands him a note and disappears into the crowd almost immediately. Probably a page from the palace, grabbing the chance to watch the play before he heads back. Mihaya watches him go and misses Obi’s first reaction to the paper, but he’s frowning by the time Mihaya turns back around.

“Bad news?” Surely that’s an innocuous-enough question, it’s not like he’s worried, but Obi’s eyes narrow even further.

“No news.” He’s still reading, lips parting to show his teeth. “Come on.”

They retrace their steps, Obi sniffing into every corner like a possessed hunting dog. Mihaya might as well not be there, for all the notice he takes of him. There’s an air of desperation in his focus, and that night Obi’s out the window before Mihaya even settles down to sleep.

Obi doesn’t come back in the morning. Just like everyone else, just like last time, he disappears. It’s not fear Mihaya feels, being left alone, it’s relief. No more Obi, no more walking on eggshells, no more memories every time they turn a corner. Two guards who don’t even bother to introduce themselves escort him back to the castle like a common criminal, leaving him in a room to wait. The lock clicks behind them, and Mihaya flops onto the bed. A real bed, no less.

It’s hard to convince himself he’s accomplished anything save reconnecting with an old friend who’d like to knife him in the back. The castle’s paid for food for a week, he's been eating well, but that's not enough. None of this is enough for what he needs. But the prince hasn’t thrown him out, which means his chances to make himself indispensable aren’t over yet.

Nothing’s over. His fate still isn't his own.

With a sigh, he relaxes into the softness of the bed. It could be worse. At least he has a lot of practice waiting. He settles back to watch shadows parade across the wall and doesn't fear the future.

#answeek2018 #day7 #in which Obi and Mihaya have a past #fanfic #canon compliant I think #just highly unlikely #Mihaya's voice is so much fun #nothing is ever his fault

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akaivampire · 6 years ago

Photo

Eclipse

Wood represents balance

#answeek2018 #day6 #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #art #my art #kikiyuki #my not-so-secret ship #also they are like the moon and sun

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squidpro-quo · 6 years ago

Text

EARTH

A/N: cause resistance got caught in my brain

“You’re an earthbender?”

Shirayuki didn’t miss the disbelieving note in the question but opted to smile back at the soldier instead.

“These herbs don’t grow this fine without a little help. Did you need my assistance or…?” She dusted most of the dirt off her hands and leaned on the post marking the edge of her fields. The neat rows of sunflowers and banana leaf sprouts stretched out behind her, the fronds tickling the inside of her calf as she straddled a row. There was no way he was taking a single step onto her land when she’d spent all morning making sure the earth was turned just right.

“You need to come with me.” The soldier looked at her expectantly and gestured towards the road leading into town as if she didn’t know which way to go.

“Is someone sick? I’ll need to bring my bag along before we leave,” she said, staying rooted to the spot. His face grew tighter, irritation sowing itself among the creases of his beard.

“No one’s sick. You’re being ordered to the outpost. As a citizen of this— “

“I’m sorry, if there’s no one who needs medical help then I’m afraid I can’t leave town. There’s too much that needs to be done.” She pushed her hat back down until the brim shaded her eyes and bent to dig her fingers around the base of a shrub.

“Ma’am, you must come.”

A hand landed on her shoulder, twisting the fabric of her dress underneath the rough grip. A wind swept through the rattling branches of the sandalwoods as the millwheel at the end of the row slowed to a stop with a long-suffering creak. She let out a sigh, tipping her head just enough to level a look at the soldier leaning over her.

“I wouldn’t step there if I were you.” She curled her fingers in the soft loam, counting the seconds as the wind came close to whipping her hat off.

“Don’t make this hard, ma’am. We’re just pulling you in for an evaluation.” The rancor in his face had grown and spread like a weed, poking through the facade of patience. She took in the way his boots tread close to a fire pepper, the side of the small mound it was planted in caving and crumbling from his step.

“Well, if that’s the case.”

She yanked her hands out of the earth and pulled it with her, burying the soldier’s feet into the hard-packed road with a turn of her wrist. The ground stirred beneath her as an answer to the rock-hard defiance. Sensing the tension in his arms, she locked her fingers in front of her and held him still with the grime he carried on him. The dust of traveling goes unnoticed by many until it’s time to wash it off at the end of a long day, but it’s there in every fold of clothing and covering every inch of skin, an avenue for the ground to reclaim what will eventually return to it in the end. Shirayuki regarded the scowl stretching the face of the soldier and reached into her front pocket. Waving the frond of the delicate herb under the man’s nose, she waited until his eyes slid closed and the resistance faded from his body.

A second later, a blast of air almost tore it from her hand as Obi landed behind the soldier with twin glints of steel peeking between his fingers.

“What did he want?” Was all he had time to say before the water that had turned the millwheel came roaring back in one enormous wave. As it teetered overhead, drops of it splattering onto Shirayuki’s hat and sliding down the straw sides to land on her shoulder, she motioned for Zen to back down.

“Nothing much. We should take him back to the garrison.”

“Is it time to move again?” Zen pulled back the water, cautiously letting it settle into the creekbed again.

“It looks like it. Shame about the lotuses, they were so close to blooming.” She pushed her hair out of her face, tucking it away out of sight again. Maybe next time they’d be able to stay in place for a full year.

#Akagami no Shirayukihime #shirayuki #answeek2018 #day1 #obi #zen wistalia #they're on the lam for some secret reason #working for the avatar or something #atla au #My writing

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akagami-no-rae · 6 years ago

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ANS Week Day 4 - AETHER

(I know it’s a free day, but this accidentally fit the theme)

@maybe-in-another-lifetime

She wasn’t supposed to be in the library this late at night. Doors that were locked with riddles that would curse you with boils if you answered incorrectly were probably meant to be a deterrent. They were also probably meant to be too difficult to answer.

Yet, here she was, browsing the forbidden section of the library during the witching hour of the night.

This section was also enchanted to stay locked, but its punishment for trespassing was much steeper than a couple hours of blemishes. If someone without permission so much as touched the lock to inspect it, they would turn to stone. Library staff, of course, would find them eventually and reverse the curse, but the trespasser would have some serious explaining to do.

The thing about the magical elite with their pureblood and white clothes, was that they never remember to counteract practical theivory. A certain soul-bound, fire demon of hers was very good at sneaking off with little trinkets like buttons, hair bobbles, and the occasional key to the forbidden section of the library.

A small green flame that gave off no heat followed her through the shelves, illuminating the spins of ancient texts. Some of the titles were in different languages, some would translate themselves revealing a book about illegal charms or extinct magical creatures. Some looked like letters she could read, but they squirmed around like they didn't want to be read.

She wasn’t looking for any book in particular, that was the fun of it though. When she came to Wistal and saw the gigantic library, the tower covered floor to ceiling with books, she knew right away, she wanted to read them all. But this forbidden section had been a real kink in her plan. Only those with special permission could enter and she, as an apprentice herbalist witch, didn't have much of a case for entry.

She l picked out a book at random that seemed to be about mushrooms. She took a seat on the floor, her flame sat on the top of the page she opened to, and she read about the theorized mushroom age of the prehistoric world.

Hours passed and she’d gotten to a very interesting bit about the proper growing conditions for different mushrooms and their medicinal uses when she heard a low growl.

She froze and listened for it again. A deep, guttural clicking sound turned her stomach. It was close. She pressed herself against the bookcase hoping that whatever it was wouldn’t notice her presence.

She heard a foot step.

And then another.

It was right behind her.

She turned her head slowly to peer through the shelf to the other side. She couldn’t see much through the small cracks between books then a shadow passed. It was gigantic and moved quickly.

Shirayuki cover her mouth to keep herself from crying out. A beast was loose with her in the library. She thought she’d been so thorough with her infiltration plan, yet she missed the part about the librarian guard monster.

She could hear its growl and its footsteps nearing the entrance of shelves she was between. Whatever it was, was about to turn the corner and see her. There was nowhere to hide, she’d have to make a break for it. Carefully, she set aside her book and began to stand. She tightened the muscles in her legs, ready to run. The silhouette of the beast towered over her and filled the space between the shelves.

A jolt through was sent her body. She jumped back and nearly tripped over herself running away.

A claw wrapped around her wrist and halted her escape. In a panic l, she whirled on the beast and slapped it’s claw.

The creature muttered a low, “Ow,” and released her hand. Shirayuki ran a few feet, then stopped. The beast’s tone surprised her out of her terror long enough to realize that the beast’s grasp had actually been gentle. She turned back to see the beast pitfully rub its own wrist where she had struck it.

Sensing her curiosity, her green light, that had been sitting at her discarded mushroom book suddenly moved between them and illuminated both their faces.

Before Shirayuki stood a nearly eight foot tall, inky black lion. It had four iridescent white eyes that reflected the flame’s glow, two horns protruded from its mane, twisting around themselves poking directly up and, most notably, this lion stood on two legs and wore a fancy shirt, vest, pants, and shoes.

“You startled me.” Its mouth didn’t move as it spoke.

“I startled you?” Shirayuki shouted at it.

The beast stared at Shirayuki, sending a chill up her spine. “The library is closed,” it said.

“What?” Shirayuki sputtered, still reeling at the fact that she hadn’t already been sliced to ribbons.

“The library is closed,” it repeated, “no one is supposed to be here.”

Shirayuki stared at the beast for a long time, “Are you a librarian or something?”

She’d never seen this beast, or anything like it, during her many hours in the library previously.

The beast noticed the mushroom book on the floor and picked it up. It moved to place the book back in its place on the shelf, then paused and handed it to Shirayuki instead.

“That is the position I find myself in.”

Shirayuki slowly accepted the book, keeping an eye on the sharp claws at the end of the beast’s fingers the entire time.

“You especially aren’t allowed to be in this section, are you.”

It wasn’t a question. She hugged the book tight to her chest and held her chin up. “I disagree with that rule,” she bowed her head, “Though, I’m sorry if I caused you trouble.”

The beast’s hand was suddenly on her head, the pads on its palms ruffled her hair gently. “I disagree with that rule as well.”

The beast removed its hand from her head and she looked up, surprised. The beast wasn’t looking at her, instead it stared pensively at a row of books too far above her head to see.

“This ‘forbidden’ section is left over from the Sorcerer King before the last Sorcerer King. Nothing here is worth keeping hidden. Though, it makes the white cloths feel important.” It looked at Shirayuki and smiled with its eyes. “Take whatever you like. I won’t tell if you don’t.”

It winked.

The demonic lion of nightmares used one of its four eyes to wink at her.

It took her a moment to gather her wits before she finally responded, “This is fine for now.” She lifted her mushroom book up and hugged it to her chest.

“I’ll see you out, then.” The beast slid past her with surprising elegance and continued toward the gated entrance. Shirayuki followed.

As they walked through the main hall of the library, dark except for her light, Shirayuki searched for any other library personnel.

“Do you work the night shift alone?” she asked.

“I’m supposed to be the only one here at night,” the beast said looking at her pointedly from over its shoulder.

“I wish the library was always open. I have trouble sleeping sometimes; reading helps me relax.”

“I also read when I can’t sleep.”

“Do you sleep during the day then?”

“I don’t sleep.”

“Oh.” Their footsteps echoed through the empty chamber. “You must read a lot then.”

“It passes the time, but I’d prefer if I could experience the things I read about for myself.”

“Why don’t you?”

The beast stopped walking and looked back at her. “There are strange beasts out there, but none as strange as me.” The beast sighed then turned and continued its walk.

Shirayuki wanted to deny that, but she couldn’t. The beast was kind and gentle, but the sight of it filled her with dread, a small part of her was happy to be leaving. They approached the doors and the beast whispered something to it to make it click open.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

The beast froze facing the cracked open door. It didn't move for a long moment and Shirayuki began to worry she’d said some magic words by mistake.

It finally spoke. “When you’re ready to exchange that book, come back and ask me again.” It turned and looked at her with its smiling eyes again.

“Alright,” she said. The beast stood at the door, staring at her, she began to feel awkward, “What can-“

“I need back the key your demon stole,” it said.

“Oh, of course.” Shirayuki fished around for it in the pockets of her jacket and pulled it out. “Here.”

The beast took it between two claws, Shirayuki suppressed a shiver when the nails brushed her palm and mustered a smile instead. It couldn’t help that it was a beast, after all.

The beast pulled the door open for her and quickly taught her a pattern to knock for next time she visited.

They bid each other a goodnight and parted ways.

“Done!”

Shirayuki felt the weight of a day’s work come to an end like the closing of a book. She folded up the piece of parchment with her daily report scrawled on it, held it out on her palm, and blew on it. The folded paper floated up and flapped its sides excitedly like wings and flew out the door of her workspace to find Chief Garack’s desk. Shirayuki then waved her hand over her table. The books closed themselves and flew to shelves. The paper organized and stacked themselves into a folder and the folder tucked itself into her bag. A couple of samples in wicker containers followed in after it. The table was cleared in moments and Shirayuki slung her bag over her shoulder.

“Good, you’re still here.”

Shirayuki turned to see Chief Garack at the door holding her unfolded report.

“Is something wrong with my report?” she asked. She was still new to this job and she wanted to prove that she could do it. To herself more than anyone.

“No, everything looks fine here. You did a good job today-” Suddenly the book case shuddered and spat out a thick leather bound book from its shelves. Shirayuki recognized it as her mushroom book from the forbidden section of the library. Garack picked it up and looked at the front and back.

“That’s mine, Chief, from the library. I must have accidentally mixed it with my research materials.

“Huh. I think I’ve read this one before.” She handed it back to Shirayuki.

“Y-you have?” Shirayuki asked, her heart pounding. Hopefully the chief didn't remember what section it came from nor that an apprentice probably shouldn’t have it. “It wasn’t the most exciting read, you should try ‘A Complete Guide to Incomplete Toadstools,’ that one was a laugh. You can pick it up tonight.”

“Tonight?” Shirayuki squeaked.

“Yes, it’s rather late now, you’d better hurry before they close.” Garack beamed at her and turned to leave the room. “Oh! The reason I stopped you: you have someone waiting for you in the bunk room.”

Not recognizing Garack’s teasing tone, Shirayuki snapped to attention. “Of course, I’ll see them right away.”

Shirayuki hurried down the hall to the bunk room where she slid open the door.

Zen was fast asleep on one of the beds.

She looked him over as she approached, searching for any obvious injuries, but he appeared to just be sleeping peacefully. She knelt in front of him and called his name. He stirred.

“Shirayuki,” he muttered, “You can’t tell anyone.”

“What?”

His eyes were closed still, his words barely discernible, but she could have sworn he said…

“Don’t tell anyone what, Zen?”

Zen’s eyes fluttered open softly. He smiled at her in the orange glow of sunset, then his eyes darted to the window. He sat up. “I fell asleep,” he said in a huff of panic, “I’ve been asleep for hours.”

“You must have needed it,” she laughed. Zen often scolded her for overworking herself only to turn around and overwork himself. It was always a bit of a relief whenever she caught him napping. “Did you not get a lot of sleep last night?”

“Not really,” he said not quite looking at her.

“Were you up watching the stars?” Zen was a celestial wizard, she knew, but she’d never seen him work at night. His magic was powerful, even during the day, it was hard for her to imagine how much more potent it could be at night.

“Not last night,” he said, “I was just… restless. How was your sleep?”

“I slept fine,” she lied. Her secret trip to the library had stolen half her sleep.

“That’s good,” he said, “I know you're new to the dorms, I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay.”

“Don’t worry, the dorms here are lovely, I feel right at home,” Shirayuki answered with a sincere smile because it was true. She wondered if he came to visit just to ask her how she slept and tried to ignore how that made her heart pound.

Zen stood up from the bed and Shirayuki followed suit then noticed he was looking at something down and to the right of her. She looked and saw the book in her hand, he must not have seen it on her lap when she was sitting on the bed with him.

“Just some light reading,” she joked, hefting the thick book up for him to see. “The chief suggested I check out a different title, though.”

“Did she? The library closes soon, do you think you’ll make it?”

Shirayuki traced her thumbs down the cover of the book from where she held it. “Maybe.”

Zen nodded then looked to the window again, the sun was close to the horizon now. “I wish I hadn’t slept so long, I wanted to talk to you.”

“We can go for a walk now, the sunsets here are beautiful.”

“They are,” Zen laughed then sadness crossed his face, “but I have to go.”

Shirayuki was surprised by how disappointed she felt hearing that. “Thank you for checking on me,” she said.

“Of course,” he said, “I’ll see you later.”

Ten Years Ago...

It was the day of King Kain’s funeral. All of the Kingdom was solemn and still. Yet, while the royal family was preparing for the public procession, Garack received an emergency summons.

She followed the messenger who lead her back to a chaotic scene.

Three guards held a door closed as something on the other side slammed against it again and again. On the floor, propped up against the wall, sat the Crown Prince of Clarines. Garack’s eyes went directly to the streak of red across his shoulder and chest and she dropped her bag of supplies next to him and began to open his shirts. Izana’s eyes were trained on the door, his breathing calculated, though he hissed with pain when Garack’s spell began to clean his wound.

“What is happening?” she demanded not taking her eyes off her work. She heard a veracious roar from behind the door and the slamming stopped, only to be immediately followed by the sound of tearing cloth and furniture being upended.

“It’s Zen,” he huffed, “He turned. I not sure what happened, but it’s Zen.”

“What are you talking about?” Garack said sternly as she wrapped a bandage around Izana.

The noise behind the doors stopped again.

The silence hung thick in the air.

Izana’s brow creased, his jaw tight. “Prince Zen?” he called, his look serious.

Still silence.

Garack looked between the door and Izana. “He’s in there with it!?” she began to stand, but Izana grabbed her wrist and pulled her close.

“It is Zen.”

She pulled free from his grasp, their eyes fixed on each other.

Cautiously, the guards that had been holding the doors, took a step back and watched in case the pounding began again. Perhaps they were planning to go inside and face the beast, but Garack beat them to it. She pushed past them and pulled the doors open. The guards grabbed at her, but she shook them off.

And there he was. A scrawny nine year old boy lying unconscious in the center of the destroyed sitting room. His clothes were in tatters, his small chest heaved for breath. Garack scanned the room for any other living thing and when it came up empty, she ran to the boy’s side and inspected the lacerations on his arms.

“He turned.”

She made quick work of bandaging them, sending her magic through her finger tips to quicken the healing process. Then she lifted the boy’s head and shoulders in her arms and began probing his magic. She felt it like a steady heart beat, but there was something darker and more sinister too. A seal of dark magic was affixed to his core.

A curse.

With horror, she recognized the workmanship.

Zen’s eyes suddenly fluttered and he began to move his arms in front of him like he was dreaming. “Prince Zen, can you hear me?” she asked in as calm a voice she could muster.

His eyes flew open and he immediately began panicking. Garack held him tightly while he thrashed and screamed. All she could do was repeat over and over, “It’s okay, Zen. You’re safe, it’s okay.” She caught his eyes eventually and he stopped fighting.

“Do you remember what happened?” she asked once his heart rate came down to a normal level.

“It is Zen.”

Tears were in his eyes as he shook his head.

Garack sighed then quickly smiled and ruffled his hair.

A couple guards came to carry him to his room. Garack made a promise to come see him soon and hurried out the doors before them. She saw Izana outside, on his feet, waiting. She grabbed his good arm and dragged him down the hall.

“You need to leave, now,” she said pointedly, “And we need to speak in private.”

They made their way to Izana’s study and locked the door behind them.

“You know what this is, don’t you?” Garack slammed her hand down on Izana’s desk where he was already sitting. His head was in his hand, his injured arm draped over the armrest.

“It wasn’t Zen’s own magic that changed him,” he said.

“No shit, your highness,” she said.

Izana blinked up at her, but she stared him down with two daggers for eyes. “It was Kain’s magic,” he finished, “There’s no denying it.”

“That was a counter curse,” she said then took a breath in order to find her calm, “I’ve only ever read about it. Powerful wizards set a counter curse on themselves, a time bomb that goes off if or when they’re killed.”

“Kain cursed Zen?”

Garack shook her head and leaned across the desk. “He cursed his killer.”

Izana narrowed his eyes at her. She had been the only one he exchanged words with during the assassination of Kain that he carried out only days before. He’d had his mother make arrangements to take Zen to the north with her in order to keep them both out of harm's way.

When she had left she gave Kain a terse bow of the head. “Farewell husband,” she’d said. Then she turned to Izana and gave him a rare hug, “I’ll see you when we return, my son,” she’d said and the look she gave him when she pulled away from the hug… She knew what he was about to do and she was happy to let him do it.

Zen and Haruto didn’t return to Wistal until they received word of the king’s death. Zen’s transformation happened just as the brother’s saw each other, fatherless, for the first time.

Izana rose from his seat to challenge Garack. “Then why him?” he demanded to know, “Why that thing?”

Garack leaned back on her heal and crossed her arms, “Because the sadistic bastard wanted his killer to see the person they love most turn into a monster and tear them apart.”

Izana tried to keep his face expressionless, but his brow twitched. He sat back into his chair, head in hand and injured arm draped again.

“What do we do?” he finally asked.

“We find a cure,” Garack replied matter of factly.

Izana looked up at her, “You can do that?”

“Yes, but I need time. And you need to stay away from him.” Her words hung in the air. “Seeing you is what triggers the transformation. I'll search day and night for a cure but you need to stay alive until then.”

Izana sat with a shadow over his face.

Garrack sighed, Zen was already so lonely. He just lost his father, though, he hardly knew him and now, thankfully, he’d never get the chance. But to lose his brother too... “I’m going to go see him, do you have anything you want me to say?”

“He was still there, you know,” Izana said distantly.

“Your highness?”

Izana lifted a finger to his eye, “The beast’s eyes. Zen’s magic was there, like starlight. He fought the curse.” He drew his finger across the bandage on his chest, “This-“ he moved his hand up and drew a line across his neck, “-would have been here if he hadn’t clawed at his own arms.”

Garack remembered the lacerations on Zen’s arms and nodded. “I’ll make sure he knows your injury wasn’t his fault.” She put her hand on the lock of the door.

“I thought Kain’s reign was over,” Izana said, his voice cracked, revealing his youth. He’d been through too much for fifteen. “I thought that we were finally free. But even in death…” He stopped to compose himself, swallowing all of his emotions, like a good royal and when he spoke again, he sounded distant and numb. “His reach is as vast and dark as the aether and fighting it feels as pointless as punching air.”

Hopelessness hung around them like a cloud, then Garack’s words cut through it.

“Aether is nothing,” Garrack spat, her words laced with poison. Izana looked to her, stunned. She didn't look back to address him, she just kept her head bowed and her hand gripping the door knob. “Starlight breaks through it every night,” she said, “And every morning the sun sends it running.” She unlocked the door of the study and slammed it behind her.

#ANSweek2018 #day 4 #magic!au #zenyuki #mad king kain

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akagami-no-rae · 6 years ago

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Wilant - ANS Week Day 6 - WOOD

The door to the pharmacy slid shut behind Ryuu and Obi. Ryuu was off to inspect the hothouses and Obi to escort him then surely sneak off and explore the rest of the strange new palace. Shirayuki couldn’t help herself from smiling. They’d made it to Wilant, she thought giddily

Akane suddenly spoke from behind her, “I’ll not have anyone with dyed hair working in this pharmacy.” It took Shirayuki a moment to realize that she was talking about her.

“My hair isn’t dyed, Chief, this is my natural color.”

Akane puffed her pipe and narrowed her eyes at Shirayuki.

“Alright,” she finally said with a cloud of smoke pouring from her mouth, “But if I see your roots growing in, so help me, I’ll make shaved heads a part of the dress code.”

“It’s real, I swear,” Shirayuki said nervously.

Akane walked away grumbling, “Kids today, with

their red-hair fads. Filling their heads with nonsense, no room for anything but vanity.”

Shirayuki waited until Akane shut the door to her office then hurried to open the window. The cool mountain air was bracing and the scent of pine needles filled her lungs. The pharmacy was on the ground floor of Wilant, just a view of the forest floor, unlike the library where she could see over the tops of the trees to the mountains.

The way the thick forest looked like night in the middle of the day filled her with excitement. She was finally here and with Ryuu who was preparing to become the head pharmacist and Zen who was to soon rule the north.

She had to keep up with them.

She turned from the window to the box of work left for her and she set to it with determination.

A few hours past and Shirayuki closed yet another folder she’d read through and turned to find its place on the shelf.

“Excuse me,” she heard someone say behind her, “Is now a bad time?”

“Oh!” Shirayuki spun to greet whoever spoke, “I didn’t hear you come in-“ An older woman with long platinum blonde hair stood by the door and Shirayuki felt she looked familiar somehow...

It struck her why in an instant.

Shirayuki bowed her head in a hurry and stuttered out a, “Your majesty.”

She had never met the Queen Mother, only seen her from a distance at Izana’s coronation. But It was undeniable, this woman shared strong resemblances with both the brothers.

Her sharp blue eyes smiled at her like Izana’s, “You must be the red-haired pharmacist, Shirayuki, that I’ve been hearing so much about.”

“I am Shirayuki,” she said, “though I cannot attest to what you’ve heard.”

She laughed like Zen. “Oh darling, don’t worry! All good things. Though I’ve heard you’re the modest type, so that’s probably of little comfort to you.”

Shirayuki set the folder she held aside to sort out later. “Is there something I can help you with, your Majesty?”

“Straight to the point,” Haruto commented, “Yes, actually, I’m here for some medicine.”

“I’ll fetch Chief Akane right away, then.” Shirayuki went to Akane’s office door and knocked before opening. “Chief Akane, her Majesty the Queen Mother is here.”

Akane who had been sitting at her desk looked up. “What’s that? Who? Haruto’s here?”

“Yes.” Shirayuki heard the voice from over her shoulder. she looked to see Haruto leaning against the door frame inches behind her. “Hi, Akane.”

“How’re you feeling, Haruto?”

“Tired,” Haruto answered, “Didn’t sleep much last night. I need more of that tonic.”

“You usually have someone fetch you your Shady Root, what brings you by?”

Haruto moved into the room, her hand fell onto Shirayuki’s shoulder as she stepped around her. “I haven’t seen you since my last checkup and I heard that you’re looking to retire soon.”

“You heard right,” Akane emptied her pipe into an ashtray, “Hana and I want to see Yuris Island again, it’s been her dream to move there.”

“That’s exciting,” Haruto said, “You aren’t leaving right away, are you?”

“Oh no,” Akane snickered stuffing her pipe again, “I still need to show these two kids how things are done around here. I didn’t spend thirty years building this place up to have a couple of babes send it to ruin.” She took her pipe between her teeth and eyed Shirayuki who stood awkwardly in the doorway. “Not to worry, though-“ she lit a match and puffed on her pipe until smoke poured from her lips, “-They’re fine pharmacists, cut their teeth with my student, Garrack, in Wistal and studied in Lyrias.”

Haruto looked over to Shirayuki and drawled, “So I’ve heard.”

“While they were there, she and the boy crossbred a non-toxic, species of Olin Maris.”

Haruto raised an eyebrow, “Olin Maris? That name sounds familiar...”

“It poisoned some people a couple years back-“ Akane began.

“Oh, that’s right!” Haruto exclaimed, “Sorry, I don’t remember all the technical terms, but yes, I know all about that incident and Miss Shirayuki’s role in resolving it.” She turned to Shirayuki again, “You did well. Apologies for not thanking you for it until now. My son reported many good things to me that week. He’s tough to impress. Well done.”

“That means a lot, your Majesty, but it wasn’t just me, Ryuu made the antidote, Suzu, Yuzuri, Kiri-“

Haruto put her hand up and smiled softly. “I’m aware of the details, Miss Shirayuki, but I wish to thank you personally at this moment.”

Shirayuki flushed and bowed her head again. “I’m happy I could help.”

“Akane,” Haruto suddenly turned to address her, “Will Shirayuki be the one taking your place as the chief pharmacist?”

Shirayuki shook her head even though Haruto wasn’t looking at her anymore. “No, the boy will be,” said Akane slowly like she was only just starting to pay attention again after the volleying of pleasantries.

“I’m Ryuu’s assistant,” Shirayuki explained, “in fact, once we’re settled here I’m supposed to leave on a trip to convince northern lords to plant Olin Maris on their land.”

“Ah yes, I believe Izana mentioned that once.”

Izana seemed to have mentioned to the Queen a lot of things about her. What else did she know? Shirayuki wondered.

“I’ll be back in a couple of months, or more, if I’m successful,” Shirayuki finished.

“And I’m sure you will be,” Haruto offered, “Your lucky red won’t fail you now.” Shirayuki blinked, Zen had said something similar when they first met. It hadn’t felt very lucky at that moment, but now, looking back at everything that had happened because of it... “Not to give all the credit of your hard work to luck, dear, but you know what I mean.”

“Of course,“ Shirayuki smiled, “Thank you.”

“I understand that this Ryuu will be the Chief Pharmacist, but Miss Shirayuki, if it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer a female as my primary physician.”

Shirayuki blinked again then stammered, “That’s understandable, your Majesty. Of course, it would be an honor.”

“Then it’s settled,” Haruto said placing her hands on her hips and turning to Akane. “Please see to it that Shirayuki is given my medical history to study. Sorry, dear,” she said aside to Shirayuki, “Unfortunately, it’s a long read, but you have until you return from your mission so there’s plenty of time.” Haruto walked back towards the door, “It was nice meeting you Miss Shirayuki,” she said as she brushed past Shirayuki. Suddenly Akane cleared her throat. “Oh! Nice catching up Akane!” Haruto said only pausing for a beat before continuing her exit, “Yuris really is lovely, I should try visiting it again myself sometime.”

“Haruto...” Akane called and punctuated it with the shake of a vial of white liquid, “Your Shady Root?” Haruto froze and laughed, “Yes! I need that! Thanks for reminding me, Akane.” Haruto returned to the office, took the vial, said her goodbyes again, then left.

“Don’t get too excited, Red,” Akane said startling Shirayuki who looked at her quizzically. Akane took a long drag of her pipe, “The woman is a hypochondriac, you’ll be giving her so many sugar pills you’ll think you spent years of your life studying just so you can run a candy store.”

“So that wasn’t-“ She felt her blood start to boil and a lecture about the ethics of giving patients placebos begin to form on her lips.

“The shady root? No, that’s real. She gets night terrors, bad ones.”

“Then, is a sleeping aid the best method? What about finding the root of her stress-”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that, Red.” Akane snapped, putting aside her pipe for the first time. “I tried what you’re talking about and I nearly killed her by doing it. She had been up for four days straight. She was in her room screaming bloody murder because of the visions her sleep-deprived mind were making her see. I just give her what she asks for now. The woman has been through enough.”

“I’m sorry,” Shirayuki said softly.

“It’s not your fault, you don’t know her patient history yet,” Akane fumbled with what sounded like some keys in a drawer in her desk. “It’s a touchy subject with me is all, don’t mind me.” She pulled out ten large, leather-bound folders with the name ‘Haruto Wisteria’ and a varying number of years scrawled across each cover.

“She wasn’t joking when she said it be a long read,” Shirayuki laughed half-heartedly, then took the folders into her arms. “I promise to read through these, will I be able to ask you any questions I might have?”

Akane chuckled like she knew something Shirayuki didn’t, and she probably did, “Sure, anything for Haruto.”

The next morning, there was a knock at Shirayuki’s door just as she was about to leave. A valet of the Queen greeted her with a letter.

She accepted it, he bowed and took his leave. Shirayuki stepped out into the hall reading the letter in hand.

“What’s that, Miss?” Obi called as he came up the stairs. Shirayuki startled slightly, but relaxed when she saw it was Obi. Obi, Mitsuhide, Kiki and her’s rooms were all together again just like they had been in Wistal. She smiled at him, but it melted when she looked back down at her letter.

“I was invited to tea,” Shirayuki answered.

“Oh?” Obi leaned close to peer over her shoulder, “By whom?” She couldn’t find the words so she let him read for a moment, then his eyes rounded, “The Queen!?” he shouted.

“Please, don’t yell,” Shirayuki pleaded looking around for any eavesdropping maids, “I probably can’t even go. I just started at the pharmacy here, I can’t ask for an afternoon off already.”

Obi laughed, “You were invited to have tea with the Queen, who can say that?”

“It’s not so strange, we’re Zen’s friends.”

“But we weren’t invited, you were.”

Shirayuki felt her stomach knot tighten, “Y-you don’t think it’s about that do you?”

“What else would it be about?”

“Well, she did make me her physician last night.”

“Do patients and physicians usually have tea together?”

“I don’t think so, but her and Chief Akane seemed really familiar with each other.”

“Then maybe she just doesn’t like formalities and is trying to welcome you.”

Shirayuki breathed and felt the weight on her chest lighten. “Yeah.”

“Don’t worry,” Obi smiled, “the Queen probably doesn’t even know about you and the Master.”

Shirayuki felt a sting behind her eyes. “Right.”

Shirayuki came to the room named Juniper at the time specified in the letter. It was easier to get out of work than she had thought it would be. Akane even gave her a blend of tea leaves to bring with her. Shirayuki was grateful for the tin in her hands, it hadn’t occurred to her to bring a gift as thanks for the Queen’s generous invitation.

A servant opened the door for her and announced her entry. Shirayuki stepped through to an ornate room with large windows along the back wall that looked into one of the hothouses. Sunlight poured in and the smell of flowers was strong. To her surprise the Queen wasn’t alone waiting for her, three young women also sat at the table.

“Here she is,” Haruto said from her seat, “Ladies, I’d like you to meet Miss Shirayuki.”

The three rose and curtsied to Shirayuki as she approached. Shirayuki, a bit surprised by the sudden gesture did her best to return it, stumbling ever so slightly as she did. One of the young ladies noticed this and smirked slightly.

“Miss Shirayuki, I’d like you to meet Lady Sara-” she gestured to the young woman with olive skin and dark brown hair. “Lady Yui-” the one with black hair and large, round blue eyes, “-and Lady Himari,” a young lady with golden waves for hair and soft brown eyes; the one who had smirked at her.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Shirayuki said as she took a seat. A butler poured her tea and she whispered her thanks to him.

“Your majesty,” Shirayuki said lifting the tin to Haruto, “This is for you, thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you, Dear,” Haruto accepted the tin and passed it to a maid who stood by, “I’ll have this prepared the next time we meet.”

“If I’d had the time I would have prepared and brought the medicinal tea my research partners and I made in Lyrias.”

“Research partners in Lyrias?” Himari hummed and the other two put down their cups to listen.

“Miss Shirayuki is an accomplished pharmacist,” Haruto explained.

“I’ve always wanted to study in Lyrias, myself,” Sara said leaning in, “Tell us, what was it like?”

“Beautiful,” Shirayuki answered, “the library there has become one of my favorite places. There are-“

“A career woman,” Himari interrupted, and then punctuated the silence with a long sip of her tea, “I enjoy seeing the development of a middle class in Clarines. It’s very cosmopolitan. You must have worked hard to get to where you are.”

“I’ve done my best,” Shirayuki said, “Thank you, Lady Himari.”

Himari’s face was perfectly carved stone, her gaze a challenge.

“We’re so fortunate to have a talent like hers,” Haruto said unaffected by the room as she stirred honey into her tea, “She’ll be working in Wilant’s pharmacy once she completes an important political mission.”

“Mission?” Yui’s eyes looked like they were about to bulge out of her head, “Sounds so secret and important,” she lowered her voice, “Can you tell us more?”

“I wouldn’t call it a political mission,” Shirayuki waved her hands, “I’m just asking some of the northern lords for permission to plant Olin Maris on their land.”

“Isn’t that the plant that poisoned all those people in Lyrias a few years back?” Sara asked and Himari and Yui looked scandalized.

“Yes, but,” Shirayuki explained, “that’s what my research partners and I have been working on: making Olin Maris glow without poison.”

Sara nodded thoughtfully, Yui gasped, and Himari leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand.

“If you don’t think this will be a political mission,” Himari mused, “you’re in for a rude awakening.”

“Especially with the state the North has been in recently,” Sara said, “Why else do you think his majesty is marrying so far below his station?”

“Ha-Lady Haki?” said Shirayuki.

“She’s only a viscountess,” said Yui then she giggled, “How funny would it be if the princess was of higher birth than the queen?”

They were talking about Zen’s future wife. Shirayuki felt her throat tighten and stole a glance to the Queen who absently sipped her tea.

“Be quiet, Yui,” Sara said.

“You’re just hoping it means the prince will have to marry a baroness,” Yui teased, “Isn't that right, Baroness Gilva?”

Sara turned red and huffed in response.

“Her rank won’t be remembered once she’s Queen,” Himari said sitting up straight and proper, “All anyone will remember is that she is from the north.” Himari looked at Shirayuki pointedly.

“So King Izana’s marriage is political?” Shirayuki asked, never having questioned it before.

“Well, of course, it is!” Yui interjected.

“Very smart of him to draw it out,” Sara said, “keeps the attention to the hopeful future instead of the unfortunate present.”

“Once the wedding is over, there will be nothing left to look forward to,” said Yui, “Well, except for a baby.” Yui nudged Sara as she said this and Sara returned to her previous shade of crimson.

“There is still Prince Zen’s wedding,” Himari said, “It would be smart for him to choose a bride who has favor in the north as well. Though, things have been awfully quiet on that front.”

Another pointed look at Shirayuki, but Sara and Yui must have been looking at Haruto because she answered. “Don’t look at me, I’m just his mother. His brother’s been keeping him so busy that I’m sure Zen hasn’t had time to even consider marriage.”

The ladies nodded and glanced at each other with subtle smiles.

“I don't think that’s true.” Shirayuki said before she realized it, “Prince Zen is clever, he wouldn’t reveal his intentions before everything is placed. The last thing he wants is to be forced to make a move.”

Everyone at the table stared at her.

Yui nearly snorted, “But intentions to whom? He hasn’t met for a marriage interview in years.”

“Aside from that,” Himari added staring straight at Shirayuki, “There has been nothing but strange rumors around him. What do you-”

“-Speaking of rumors,” Sara interrupted, “is it true that his highness is in Wilant now? Is it true he’ll become the steward of the north?”

Haruto chuckled. “Yes, in fact-” she said just as the doors to the room opened.

The valet spoke, “Prince Zen Wisteria.”

“-I asked him to come by,” Haruto finished.

The ladies gasped and turned to see Zen enter the room.

Haruto stood and walked to him. “Zenny,” she greeted warmly.

The pet name sent Himari, Yui, Sara into a fit of giggles that there quickly stifled and stood. Zen looked horrified, glancing between his mother, the three young ladies, and lastly to Shirayuki who still sat in her seat looking over her shoulder at him.

Shirayuki was pulled out of the stunned silence by a coughing. She turned to see Himari urgently trying to tell her something with her glare. Stand up, she realized and she popped up immediately.

Haruto seeming to only just realize what she’d said covered her mouth and whispered, “Sorry.”

Zen tore his stare away from Shirayuki and addressed Haruto through clenched teeth. “Queen Mother.” He bowed and all the ladies curtsied, Shirayuki followed suit a beat behind.

Haruto cleared her throat then put her hand down. “Prince Zen,” she corrected, “there are some ladies here I’d like you to meet.”

Zen glanced over the Sara, Yui, and Himari to Shirayuki, his brow quirked. “Mother,” he said stiffly looking back at her, “You said you had some reports for me to pick up.”

“Yes, yes,” Haruto waved, “But first, say hello to my guests: Lady Sara Gilva, Lady Yui Aster, Lady Himari Soto, and I’m sure you met Miss Shirayuki while in Wilant.”

Each girl curtsied as her name was called, Shirayuki simply bowed her head.

Zen bowed at his waist, “Good afternoon.” He stood and looked at Shirayuki and bowed again. “Lady Shirayuki.” The ladies and Haruto all looked surprised. Haruto recovered first, grabbing the side of her head, “Ah, Lady Shirayuki! I remember now, you had a title- thing-” she waved her hand trying to remember, “-friend of Tanbarun’s crown, correct? Sorry, you must have thought me so rude.”

“Not at all,” Shirayuki waved her hands in front of herself, “It’s so new to me, even I forget I have it. You don't have to call me-”

“Lady Shirayuki,” Zen said looking at her with hurt eyes, “Excuse me for interrupting, but it’s alright to remind others of your accomplishments when they forget.” He gave a pointed glance to Haruto.

Her pardons still hung on the tip of her tongue. He turned back smiled at her softly and she drew in a breath. “Zen,” she exhaled, a bare whisper.

“She’s too humble for her own good,” Haruto laughed.

“Mother,” Zen warned despite her good-natured tone. It reminded her of when he’d try to defend her from Obi’s teasing.

“Alright, alright,” Haruto surrendered and went to one of the flower vase covered tables and picked up a small stack of folders. She brought them back to him and handed them off. Zen tucked the folders under his arm and bowed to her again, “Queen mother.” He turned to the table of ladies, “Pleasure meeting you.” He turned to leave when-

“Come now, Zen, shake their hands.”

Zen looked at Haruto for a long moment. Her brow flicked up in unshaken expectation, he tipped his head in response. Yui and Sara had to stifle their giggles. The two hurried out from behind the table to meet him. He shook both their hands smiling and sincerely greeting them. Then Himari walked to him. She extended her hand, palm down, and waited for him. She wanted him to kiss it. Yui and Sara’s shock turned into sheer jealousy within seconds. Shirayuki felt a pang, but that was silly, she told herself. It’s okay, she wanted to say, but couldn’t. All she could do was watch.

Zen stared down at the back of her hand, it’d be extremely rude for him to reject it. Himari had made a calculated action that forced him to make a move.

Zen took Himari’s fingers in his and lifted her knuckles to brush against his lips. “Lady Himari,” he said with the same warm sincerity he gave the other two. Himari drew her hand back and smiled, pleased with herself.

Zen turned to Shirayuki and all eyes fell on her.

Shirayuki couldn’t move, her eyes fell to the floor. Zen came and stood before her, all she could see were his shoes. She lifted her hand slowly to shake, but instead of grasping it, he cupped the back of her hand with his own. She looked up at him, not sure what he was doing. He sat his folders aside on the table beside her and took her hand in both of his. His thumbs traced her palm and she watched his hooded eyes as he lifted her palm to his lips. He placed a kiss on the center of her hand.

A jolt shot up Shirayuki’s back. Zen, slowly, pulled away and closed her fingers over the place he left his heart. He held her hand closed, the two of them staring into each other’s eyes. Zen, his smile warm, sincere, and… different. It was a subtle difference, but undeniably just for her.

“My lady,” he said, “Never be afraid to correct any of them if they step over a line.”

Shirayuki nodded, “Well, I usually try to give someone at least one meeting before I start slapping sense into them.”

Zen chuckled, “We both know that’s not true.”

She laughed, “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Good,” Zen said giving her hand a squeeze. Shirayuki felt the tension she felt ever since she entered this room fade away.

Then she remembered where they were.

Her eyes darted over Zen’s shoulder to see Haruto watching with an amused smile- just like Izana, she thought.

Zen turned to face her, his hands still holding Shirayuki’s. “Thank you for introducing me to your lovely guests, but I have work to return to.”

“Are you certain you wouldn’t rather stay and join us?” Haruto mused walking back to her chair.

Zen brushed his thumb over Shirayuki’s knuckles one last time then let go to pick up his folders. “No, I’ll leave you all to your political planning and peace talks. I have soldiers not passing their physicals to deal with.”

Zen left the room, the door clicking shut behind him. She could almost swear she heard him yell Mitsuhide’s name. That made her smile. Shirayuki turned to Haruto who was watching the door with her amused smile.

Shirayuki asked confidently, “What did Izana tell you?”

The young ladies, eyes already rounded, giggled furiously. Shirayuki realized it was because she’d forgotten to use an honorific for the king. Haruto arched an eyebrow and considered Shirayuki from the corner of her eye, then shrugged and walked back to her seat.

“Izana? About you and Zen?” She sat and picked her tea up, “Not a word. Zen told me everything I know, just now.” She took a sip. “Everything else was just mother’s intuition.”

“I’m sure the rumors flying around had no influence over you,” Shirayuki said, colder than she intended, but Haruto had forced Zen’s hand. “They aren’t true, by the way. Zen-”

“Would never take a concubine,” Haruto finished, “He’s too sensitive, and you're too smart. Honestly, I was beginning to worry he’d never take a wife.”

Haruto laughed and looked to the young ladies who giggled like this was something they’d discussed before. The three took their seats again too, looking at Shirayuki with a new respect rather than the jealousy and anger Shirayuki had briefly feared.

“Yes, but Zen and I aren’t, he hasn’t,” she stammered a bit taken aback by the word wife.

“Zen’s serious, don’t you know?” Haruto asked.

“I do, he is and so am I, but-“

Himari spoke up, “I hope this political mission goes well for you.” She meant it too. All the things she’d said at the table earlier…

“As do I,” said Haruto with another sip of her tea and a quick smiling glance at Shirayuki. She put her empty cup down and stood. “Lady Shirayuki, these three young ladies are some of the most intelligent and shrewd I’ve met, I suggest you meet and have tea with them as often as you can before you leave on your mission. Learn everything you can from them.” Haruto eyed the three young ladies, “I’m trusting her to you.”

The three smiled and bowed their heads in response. Haruto squeezed Shirayuki’s shoulder and flashed her a final smile before leaving. Shirayuki suddenly felt like the world was spinning and returned to her chair to regain her sense of balance. She looked across to her three new allies. None smiled as brightly as Himari who leaned forward and said, “Let’s begin, shall we?”

#ANSweek2018 #day 6 #this is just what i came up with when i got to thinking about what i want the future of the manga to look like hahaha #this is just he beginning of course #things will not stay this smooth mwahahhahaha!#soon they will be ont he brink of civil war and only shirayuki can save them #those three girl are who i want to have eventually become shirayuki #s ladies maids #lord knows she needs more lady friends

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bubblesthemonsterartist · 6 years ago

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If Not For You, Then For No One Else (Chapter 4/5)

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes I’m sure.”

“This is a stupid idea, rich boy.”

“You said that already.”

“A stupid idea to go with your stupid flowers.”

“Kazuki,” Shirayuki hisses. “That’s enough.”

#bubbleswrites #answeek2018 #akagami no shirayukihime #obiyuki #day 1 #earth #cw: graphic depictions of violence #cw: allusions to human trafficking

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sabraeal · 6 years ago

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The Great Chain, Chapter 3

The Hierarchy of Beings | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

ANS Week, Day 2: Metal Focus | Insecurity | Strength | Independence

In Wati, she had been a treasure -- the last of His Most High’s full siblings, a sacred vessel of the god’s breath, the only woman of his line left to house the sacred feminine within her. Her feet had not been allowed to touch the earth, her air of her lungs not wasted on those not worthy of it, her grace hidden behind veils and screens so as to not blind those with her glory.

Strange, how easily that was forgotten, when her brother sold her to the heathens. Now she is given free reign of the castle, so long as she stays in sight of her guard. She may show herself anywhere, to anyone of her choosing. She may even raise her voice and speak as she may.

Stranger still is how in so few days, she has come to -- to --

Enjoy it.

Still, she tries to live in her modest way, sitting behind her screen when there are maids or visitors in her chambers, rarely speaking unless it is necessary. Even now she looks to her left first, expecting to see a daughter of Visoth at her shoulder, waiting to be her voice. She wonders if there will ever be a day she does not, where she has grown so accustomed to blasphemy that she forgets herself.

She should not be so eager to find out.

It is one of the Clarinese maids that comes to her when she is playing her koto, letting the room air through the insufficient doors of the balcony. She has no daughters of Rith to serve her, had not been allow to take any -- not that they would have come to the heathen lands, save by force -- and the sons at the door know better than to enter the sanctum of the sacred feminine, even if they have been raised with blasphemy.

So it is the Clarinese that violate it, that send a girl to scratch at the paper and say, “The pharmacy is ready for you, Your Highness.”

Her mouth pulls thin at the flimsy honorific; here they think her a -- a princess, a lesser next to their king, next to their queen. But her brother is an Emperor, a man who holds the god’s breath in his lungs and his will in his hands. She is not an ornament, not a highness, not even a majesty.

She breathes out, letting the anger sink deep, settle beneath skin and sinew. It lives in the marrow of her bones, as it should. A way to heat the blood, a way to strengthen sons.

She lays her koto aside, and stands.

The palace in Wati sat on the city’s highest peak, the floors of the court and harem private but open to the god. Seven airy spires had stretched higher, cast in gold; a fitting tribute to His glory.

But beneath, it was a labyrinth, a warren of alchemists that stretched for what seemed like miles beneath the earth, spiraling ever deeper. It was safest for them there; seeking the order of Atar Wat’s universe was not a business for the faint of heart, and more than a few wings were always closed for repair, following an apprentice’s -- or even, sometimes, a master’s -- misunderstanding. It was not infrequent, her brother assured her once, that these misunderstandings were fatal.

So to see that the King of Clarines allows his own above ground, allows them to mix with his own court --

It’s madness. She’d always heard it ran strong in this country’s line.

And still, her brother had sent her.

They take her to a room in this warren -- this wing, as they tell her, though the building is separate from that of the palace, though on the same land -- its windows wide and open to the garden outside, though set high enough to afford some measure of privacy. A screen sits half-unfolded between her and the tables of instruments -- wise, she thinks, that they do not allow laymen to see their alchemy.

Though, she must admit, she is curious. Samay had told her such things of Clarinese alchemy --

Sorry to keep you waiting.

She startles, hands clutching the edge of the strange bed they’ve sat her on, too high to be reached saved with a stool.

Oh! A young woman edges around the bed, eyes wide with worry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Shirayuki.

She nods, slow, hands clutching tighter with anger. Does this girl think she doesn’t know who she is? Did she think she came here blind, to not know of the prince’s red-haired concubine, the one secreted away among the alchemists so as to not arouse suspicion.

Perhaps there were warrens still, in this place. Perhaps one snaking tunnel led straight to --

She bites her cheek. She must be calm, must make this girl think she is no threat.

For now.

You are... The girl -- Shirayuki -- flips through her papers. There is no way to judge Clarinese beauty, but this girl does not seem...unappealing. Pale skin, though blemished; eyes a more vibrant shade than jade; hair as bright and red as chilies. It would be easy for a man to think such a concubine could bring him prestige, could bring him --

“Munkhtsetseg.”

Her knuckles blanch where they grip the bed. How is it that this girl dares -- that she thinks herself worthy --

You’ll need to take off your robe, the concubine continues, so simply, as if she were not -- not speaking blasphemy with each breath. And your veil as well.

She does not realize her hands have moved, not until she feels gauze bunched beneath her fingers, the silk against her other palm. She clutches the veil to her, protective, her voice tangled in her throat. She should call for the guards, she should fly from this room, from this insult --

By all the faces of the god, this girl’s tongue should be cut from her mouth.

Oh my! The girl’s eyes go wide, her hands held up in supplication. I’m sorry, I didn’t -- I don’t want to give offense.

That boat has already left its landing, but the only words she can manage are, You are an actual physician?

She doesn’t know how to read these Clarinese faces, but even so -- the concubine’s goes on a journey.

Yes, she says finally. I’m an actual -- I’m a pharmacist.

Samay had told her that the concubine was more than she seemed. That Shirayuki was as clever as they said she was, that she was skilled in spades, that she could turn hearts with little more than words --

She thought he meant it as a warning.

Shirayuki sets down her papers, sitting on the small stool close to the bed. They are of a height, but the white coat makes her look taller, look older. Makes her so tempted to trust the woman who should be her enemy --

I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, the concubine says, so softly, as if she’s a small child. She should be offended, but her hands shake, and -- and -- no one has spoken to her so kindly since she’s been here. So bluntly. Did you have exams in Wati?

She nods.

Shirayuki watches her, gaze searching. Can you explain them to me?

A physician would sit behind the screen, she tells her, nodding her head toward the one haphazardly placed in the corner. And then he would ask questions. A daughter of Visoth would give him my answers.

Her eyes pulse wide, shocked. But he never looked at your body? Or touched you?

She can barely speak past the insult, the -- the -- presumption.

Never! Her breath comes out in a wheeze. No one may look upon a body sacred to the god!

Shirayuki bites her lip, thoughtful. Here it’s -- very different. I have to -- to see your body. To check for ailments.

My health is unimpeachable, she snaps, heart wild in her chest. I breathe with the breath of the god!

The girl hesitates, but not with fear or awe -- no, she is thoughtful, weighing her words before she speaks.

Some illnesses are invisible. Her hand gestures to where her legs dangle off the bed. I heard that you’ve been walking slowly, with a limp. There’s a lot that can cause that, but I won’t know until I examine the muscles of your legs, or the structure of your bones. It could be something easy, or it could need, um -- more rigorous treatment. But I have to see to help you.

Her shins ache at their mention, throbbing when she even thinks of them being touched.

I will endure, she tells the concubine. It is what she always has done

The girl breathes in, breathes out. There’s no reason to live in pain. If I take a look now, you could be feeling better by the time you leave my office.

Her feet remind her of their blisters, of the way they are healing painfully, raggedly. Of how there are no palanquins in this barbaric place.

I cannot -- the promise of relief makes her faint. The veil --

You don’t have to take it off, the girl concedes. We can do that when you feel more comfortable. Just your clothes. You can keep your underthings on too, if that makes you feel better.

Something happens to her face in that moment, something that makes it strong, unyielding. It’s no one’s business, what’s under those. Not unless something bothers you. I’ve already...filled in that part. No one will bother you about it.

Her hands hesitate on the folds of her clothes, trying to parse the words. She wouldn’t -- there would be no need --

Ah. No matter what Ambassador Prak had promised, someone had thought to ask about the...wholeness of her person. Someone had requested it be part of this examination. And the concubine -- this Shirayuki --

She had already decided to lie for her. It made no sense, not for a rival.

I can remove my clothing, a voice, so unlike hers, says. Her fingers, stranger to her now, work at the ties holding together the cloth, pull it away from skin that has never seen the sun --

Oh, Miss, hums a voice, here you are.

Her hands seize tight around her clothes, clutching them to her body as a -- a --

A man crawls in through the window, all long-limbs and bronze skin. She may not be able to judge Clarinese by their features, but a Wati? She could tell all too well.

He is handsome. Even with the ragged scar that cuts beneath the bristle of his hairline

“Obi!” Shirayuki yelps, scrambling to stand in front of her, to give her some privacy, and oh, that interests her further, this man who sneaks into the concubine’s office, tempts her into taking another look --

Only to meet gold. Her heard freezes solid in her chest.

“Guards!” she screams. “Unclean!”

#answeek2018 #day 2 #akagami no shirayukihime #my fic #ans #Hierarchy of Beings #there was actually like 1K+ more #and then i realized it was like 2x longer than the other chapters #and i was like #WELL GETTING A HEAD START ON CHAPTER 4 I GUESS

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