#answeek2018

[akagami-no-rae]

Early Spring - ANS Week Day 1 -EARTH

Shirayiuki dug her hands into the warmth of the damp soil and scooped it onto a sheet of butcher paper. She removed a sproutling from the carton next to her and  loosened the compacted dirt, letting its roots dangle before placing it in the trough and filling in the dirt again.

She continued this process down each row of the green house. She was working contentedly when she suddenly stopped and looked behind herself.

Zen stood in the doorway like he had just walked up.

“I-I was just about to call out to you,” he said and scratched the back of his head, “You’re usually so focused, I must have been very noisey just now.”

Shirayuki smiled at him, grabbed the towel next to her supplies, and wiped the dirt from her hands as she stood. “No, I had just been hoping you’d come by,” she said.

“Really?” Zen said, “Any reason?”

Shirayuki shook her head. “No reason.”

She invited him to sit along the planter with her and they both sat and admired the work she’d done over the course of the day. The room was filled with the scent of loam and little buds were already showing up on the freshly planted sprouts. Early spring was probably her favorite, Shirayuki thought. Everything was new and full of potential. It took work, and harder work was ahead, but for now, she could enjoy this moment with Zen.

Shirayuki felt his gaze on her and it caused a pink to spread across her cheeks. She looked from the corner of her eye just to be sure and there he was, staring at her, his eyes soft and warm like the morning sun. “Why are you staring at me?” she asked averting the moment they met his. Ever since they had confessed to each other the other week she always caught him staring at her.

Zen didn’t shy away from her question. “Because I’m so happy,” he said moving to sit so that their legs touched. She turned to face him. “And you’re so beautiful... I can’t believe I can finally look at you properly.”

Shirayuki heard her heartbeat in her ears. “Properly?” The word came out in a shaky whisper.

Zen���s mouth upturned at the corner. “Admiring the features and intelligence of a beautiful girl, the way I am now? Without her consent? That would be quite ungentlemanly,” he teased.

She felt his finger brushing her palm. ‘It’s undeniable,’ she heard his words clearly, in her mind, ‘You have always given me strength, therefore, will you you help me keep this promise? Will you take my hand?’ He put his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, “I can stop if you want me to.”

“No,” she said a bit too loud, it made Zen chuckle. “I mean...I was just wondering. I-I like it-” She closed her fingers around his, “-You can keep looking at me.”

Zen’s eyes flickered open staring into hers for a long moment before looking down at her lips. She felt heat rise up her neck and looked at his as well. Zen’s lips were a perfect bow, it almost made her jealous. Slowly, Zen closed his eyes again and tilted his head so that his mouth could reach hers. All thoughts left her suddenly. She closed her eyes and felt the softness of his lips on hers. Zen was always soft, lips, hair, skin, plus he smelled nice. His fingers brushed through her hair and cupped her cheek. They pulled apart for a moment to look at each other through hooded eyes. They smiled, then Zen gave a final peck on the corner of her eye and sent sparks through her.

“I’m happy you wanted this too, I thought I was going crazy,” she whispered as his lips drew away from her skin, “When you kissed me in the tower, I was so stunned, I was certain I imagined it.”

“Really?”

“It wouldn’t have been the first time I imagined you kissing me,” she admitted, “I suppose that wasn’t very gentlemanly of me.” She laughed as Zen turned pink. “I wanted you. For a long time I wanted you. I couldn’t say exactly when, because I kept pushing the thought away. It was impossible... Until it wasn’t.”

“I knew I wanted you by my side from the first day we met,” he admitted, “Whatever it takes, we’ll find a way to make it possible.”

They held each other's hands, a sign of their promise to the other.

[akaivampire]

Earth represents growth and resistance

[squidpro-quo]

Fire

A/N: just a warm feeling

The fur rimming Shirayuki’s hood tickles her nose as she breathes in and she has to hold her breath as the sneeze threatens to erupt into the comfortable silence. She can’t lift an arm to pinch her nose considering both are weighed down by the heavy blankets they’re tangled in and wriggling around to find the edge would doubtless lead to someone waking up.

The sneeze slowly subsides and she settles back into the warmth that is their current huddle. Zen’s snowy hair is nestled against her shoulder and she stifles a laugh at the memory of how hard it was to spot him among the pale drifts outside, it had given him a rather unfair advantage early on in their game.

Obi curls in, back pressed against both her and Zen’s legs and facing towards the fire and the entrance. Seeing his feet poke out of one end, she shifts the heavy blanket until he’s tucked into their circle of limbs once more. The room smells like hickory and the mulled wine at the bottom of their cups and Shirayuki doesn’t feel like sleeping for another hour. After all their fun, it gives her a chance to soak the day in.

It had been Zen’s idea, naturally, to sneak out for a day of exploring the woods stretching out for miles behind the castle. The snow crackling under her feet until she sank almost to her knees, she had to give up any pretense of finding things for the pharmacy. Zen pulled at the branches within reach, tracing the swirls of frozen leaves and icy bark with gloved fingers. Their hushed awe hadn’t lasted long once Obi dropped a handful of snow on Zen’s shoulders as he passed overhead among the boughs. From then, it was a blur of cold surprises and flashes of laughter. She can’t even really remember how they found their way back, legs heavy and plowing through the drifts until they reached the castle gate.

Kiki had told them all had noses as red as her hair and given them two bottles of wine before leaving, though Shirayuki saw the smile she tried to hide. She isn’t sure why they had ended up staying in Zen’s rooms, even after they’d begun to nod off but it was so much more comfortable here where she feels Zen’s breath against her cheek and Obi’s eternal shifting.

Burrowing deeper into the cocoon between the three of them, her thoughts wind down in spirals.

[claudeng80]

Nobility (Day 1, Earth)

Now that everyone in the Lyrias pharmacy can recognize the Prince, his showing up in their front hall is less of an uproar than it used to be.

“Shirayu-” She jumps when Izuru calls out for her, turning to find Zen holding up a bashful hand to forestall her. It’s not like him to interrupt her at work on a whim, it must be something important-

“I’m here to talk to Ryuu, actually,” he says, and it’s as though nobody in the building can breathe. Izuru points back toward the stockroom, the last place Ryuu had been sighted, but every other eye is on Shirayuki.

She props her book on the table, but she can’t even make a pretense of reading until he’s passed. He nods, she smiles, and the dusting of pink on his cheeks is all she needs. They’ll find time later, after his errand and her work. They always manage.

When next she emerges from the stacks, the book set aside for a particular treatise on ferns, Suzu is waiting for her. “Your prince left half an hour ago, and nobody’s seen Ryuu since. We decided you could go check on him.” Surely he must see the confusion on her face. An entire building full of friends and healers, and somehow she’s the only one qualified?

She turns toward the stockroom anyway. Just because she’s annoyed at Suzu and everyone else doesn’t mean she won’t go to Ryuu if he might need her. And she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious about what Zen said to him.

An open door leads her to the balcony, where Ryuu is leaning on a railing watching clouds flow over the distant mountains. Someone who hadn’t known him long might call him peaceful, but she can see he’s anything but. She settles herself nearby, just an arm’s length away, watching the same clouds. She doesn’t need to say anything.

“My uncle’s dead,” he says, and her elbow slips on the railing in surprise. Ryuu talks about his family every bit as little as Obi does and hangs onto her stories about her grandparents with the same subtle hunger. Garrack mentioned once, years ago, that he was her legal ward, and she’d never imagined he had living family. “Lost at sea.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Shirayuki starts. “I can go talk to Shidan for you if you need some time-”

He shakes his head. “That’s not it.” The last wisp of cloud disappears over the peak, leaving the summer-green slopes clear. “I’m his heir.”

The way he says it sounds like he’s been sentenced to prison, but it does explain how Zen got involved. It’s nice to him to deliver the news personally, rather than leaving it to some stranger. “What did he do?”

For the first time, Ryuu meets her eyes. “He was a Marquis.”

--

Being the granddaughter of a peer and the dear friend of a prince and a future countess has not made Shirayuki any kind of expert on nobles. A whisper in Shidan’s ear, and she and Ryuu are on their way to consult someone who is.

Lata Forzeno barely even tries to bar the door against her anymore. He grumbles on principle, but he knows she’ll find her way in eventually, so his efforts are half-hearted at best. Half the time she brings bribes of pastries or scientific curiosity, and she’s pretty sure she’s caught him smiling. There’s no need for him to be so isolated.

In honor of the occasion, she tries to be proper as they sit down to tea. Lata eyes her curiously, probably wondering why she isn’t already chattering about seeds or rocks or whatever her latest enthusiasm is. She wouldn’t be averse to getting his opinion on a sedimentation theory she’d just come across, but that’s not why they’re there. She raises her eyebrows at Ryuu, hoping he’ll ask his own question, but he just slouches in place.

She sighs. “Ryuu is inheriting a title. We don’t know what he needs to know, so we were hoping you could recommend some books.”

She’s never seen Lata’s composure desert him so completely. “Books. On how to be a noble.” To his credit, he chokes down the laughter that’s clearly pushing against his tongue and swallows hard. “I don’t think there are any. It’s really something that gets passed down parent to child.” He trails off, not sure how to follow that in this particular case.

“It’s okay,” says Ryuu, breaking the silence with a curt grunt. It doesn’t sound okay to Shirayuki, but she’s not going to argue. She brings up the sediment study after all, and Ryuu’s looking much more cheerful by the time they take their leave.

She’s not done with ideas yet, though. If it’s something taught from parent to child- “Should we go talk to Kiki? Maybe she or her father would be willing to teach you.”

Ryuu shakes his head. She has to walk fast to keep up with him now, her stride surpassing hers by more every day. “I’ve got another idea. You don’t need to worry about me.”

--

She tries, at first, to do what he says. It’s technically none of her business, but she knows dealing with people isn’t Ryuu’s strongest point and she really just wants to help. She peeks into Ryuu’s office looking for him, planning on broaching the Kiki plan again, and he’s there, but he’s busy.

Ryuu’s head is barely an inch from Obi’s, bent together over Ryuu’s desk in the sunlight. Obi’s seated, his elbow moving in slow and deliberate loops, and that in itself is suspicious. She slips into the room a few steps, and Obi doesn’t say anything. More suspicious still. Ryuu doesn’t even breathe until Obi lifts the pen, setting it aside and shaking out his hand.

“It’s been a while since I’ve done something like this,” he says. “Are you sure it’s what you want?” He speaks to Ryuu, but she can see from the flick of his eyes that he knows she’s there. Ryuu hasn’t noticed yet.

Another step and she can read over Obi’s shoulder. The calligraphy is careful, beautiful, as far from Obi’s usual haphazard scratchings as she can imagine. She squints to make out the words themselves, and it’s a single title line so far: “Certificate of Death.”

She’s too furious to keep quiet any longer. “Ryuu, are you faking your death to get out of this?” There’s a snap to her voice above and beyond what she expected, and Ryuu staggers back away from the table. Even Obi’s shoulders hunch, and he knew she was there. He’s not blameless here either. “Obi, how could you?”

“Hey, he asked me to!” Obi’s got his best innocent face on. “Can you blame him? The time I had a title, I got rid of it as fast as I could.” Ryuu uncoils just a degree from his hunch, eyes locked to Obi’s profile. “Lost it in a card game, same night I got it, but still.” He might be telling the truth, there’s no way of knowing with him, but Ryuu is looking far too inspired for comfort.

“Ryuu, no, that’s not-” She can’t even figure out how to explain right now. “You can’t-” A deep breath in, one out, and she finds both her center and an even better idea. “Let’s go talk to Zen.”

Ryuu tries to balk at the prospect of discussing this with yet another noble, but Obi takes Shirayuki's side and at least Zen already knows the situation. He leans his chair back in his makeshift office in the checkpoint, entirely unfazed by Ryuu’s reluctance. “Then you abdicate, no problem,” he says, and Shirayuki can see a physical weight drop from Ryuu’s back. Obi leans against the wall, snickering. “The title goes to a third cousin of yours up in Sereg, I already looked it up. It means you don’t get anything from the estate, no land, no income-”

“That’s fine!” Ryuu’s breathing fast with excitement, the freedom he’s felt slipping away from him the last few days back within reach.

“And you’re sure about this?” Zen’s eyes are sharp, watching Ryuu for any possible hesitation. There is none for him to see.

“It mattered to my parents,” Ryuu says, voice dropping back into his usual register as the panic that’s gripped him eases. “Never to me. It’s a responsibility I’m not suited for, and I already serve Clarines the way that suits me best. Let me do this.”

Zen grins. “All right, then.” He pulls a letter, already fair-copied, from the everpresent stacks on his desk. “Sign this.”

--

It’s not the end of the story. Marquis Melio finds out the worst way that he’s dead, landing in Sea Port to find his assets gone and his title already passed on. The news even reaches Lyrias as the battle between the supposedly-dead Marquis and the new Marquise escalates from name-calling to legal action. Zen’s letters enumerate Izana’s sufferings and congratulate Ryuu’s wisdom in staying out of the whole business.

Ryuu barely even looks up from his book. He has what he wants.

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

Misdirection

“Lord Lugis.”

Hisame smirks, pausing in the shadows between torchlight. The hallowed halls of Wilant Castle are long and empty and they are alone. Hisame can’t see him, not yet, but the way the firelight catches on that too sharp, too still face reminds Obi of a viper.

“Please, Sir Obi,” he affects a lightness of tone, hand casually at his sword. “That’s my father’s name and my brother already has his heir. Don’t mock me with a title I’ll never inherit.”

“That’s a shame,” he murmurs, voice echoing between stone. “Forced to either fratricide or witness the Lugis name consumed piece by piece by those slow moving jaws.”

Hisame’s eyebrow ticks, eyes narrowing in the dim. “I have a ball to attend with my fiance,” he says, so imperious. “So if you do not mind-”

“I do,” Obi replies, letting the edge of the firelight catch the shape of him. “I mind a lot.”

Hisame finds him instantly, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “And what are you then?” he says, tilting his head. “Another knight following her around like a love sick puppy? All words and noble gesture, but with no action to back your deeds?”

“And you think you will?” Obi’s body coils, a snake posed to eat another whole. “A second son possessed only by ambition?”

Hisame huffs, brushing his cloak free of invisible flecks of dust. “No matter how egalitarian your Master may be, the rest of Clarines is not. Seiran needs an heir. A male heir.” Hisame gives him a scathing once over. “Unlike those in your cohort, I actually know where to put it.”

Hisame’s back hits the wall, the acrid smoke of singed hair rising from a torch far too close to the man’s head. Obi’s eyes narrow against the brightness, but he’s grateful that infuriating superior smirk has been knocked clean off his face. 

“How presumptuous to assume I haven’t,” Obi purrs, pressing hard with his knee into the soft flesh of Hisame’s inner thigh. He grits his teeth, a single unsheathed dagger digging into the soft underside of his chin. “I certainly know where to put this.”

He doesn’t know whether he is pleased or not to find Hisame sneer rather than barter like that monkey Mihaya would.

“It seems so,” he replies tightly, too long hair falling into his eyes. “So, then, what do you want to talk to me about, Sir Obi?”

Obi leans in, face so close he can smell a faint traces of wine still lingering from dinner. “Call off the engagement.”

Hisame’s lip quirks. “Can’t do that. Sorry.”

“Let her go.”

“To what end, Sir Obi?” Hisame tilts his head. “You saw the bloodbath with the Bergetts. Time is up. Kiki knows that. And so should you.”

He does. No matter how much he tries to avoid it, he knows.

“We’ve known each other since we were children.” Hisame says, voice dropping low. “I’m not going to hurt her.”

Obi stares, hand flexing against the others cravat. “You wouldn’t live through the wedding night if you did.”

“Noted,” Hisame replies, slightly strangled. “Where did His Highness get you anyway? It’s not like His Majesty to let a rabid dog wander the halls of the Palace.”

Obi bares his teeth, happy to show him just how sharp they could be. “I wonder...”

~ ~ ~

“Obi.”

He comes to a stop, dead and cold. He should have expected this. Should have prepared. In the shadows, his movements were easy, fluid as ever. They spoke his native tongue. But he walks in the light more often than not now, a stranger in a strange land. And it is glaringly obvious that the dialect here is awkward in his mouth. 

So he folds his arms, and waits.

Kiki descends the stairwell, the very picture of a lady. Her hair unbound and caught in the glow of firelight, her hands almost hidden by her sleeves, silk slippers muffling the sound of her steps underneath layers and layers of loose fabric. His brow furrows, irritated. Irrationally betrayed. He’s not used to it.

The look on her face, though. That’s something he can cling to.

“Don’t fight my battles for me.”

Obi looks away, exhaling slowly through his nose. “I wasn’t.”

Her eyes narrow dangerously, staring at the knives still clenched in his fist. “What would you call that, then?”

Obi’s jaw works, looking at his own hands as if they were not his own. And then, one after another, he spins his daggers into a small pile in his palm, showing them to her. In the next, he twists his hands and they are gone, both of his palms empty. 

“Better?” he raises his brows.

She doesn’t look amused. “I didn’t know you knew magic tricks.”

“I don’t!” he grins, but he doesn’t feel any lighter in his chest. “I’m just very good with my hands.”

Her nostrils flare. “Don’t do it again. I don’t need someone else dragged under by my problems.”

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. His smile slips away, and so does he, turning on his heel to go find his Miss. At this hour, she must be getting hazy-eyed in the dance hall. “It’s my choice whether or not I dive into the undertow.”

[answeek]

Day 6, Wood

Fanart

Eclipse by @akai-vampire

Fanfic

Best Laid Plans, Chapter 4 by @superhappybubbleslove​

Forgotten, Ch 6: Arrival by @ruleofexception​

Hopes and Dreams by @claudeng80​

The Most Perverse Creature in the World, Chapter 4 by @sabraeal​

Wilant by @raediation​

Wood by @squidpro-quo

[sabraeal]

By Their Fruits Ye Shall Know Them

A prequel to the A Grain of Wisdom in the Stream of Folly and Creatures of a Brief Season

ANS week, Day 3: Air Reason | Cunning | Diligence | Clarity

Izana is young when he learns. His tutors did always call him a quick study.

The chubbiness of infancy still clings to him, rounding his cheeks and legs, the small fingers of his hands still too thick to hold a pen or write in neat hand. They are good only to pilfer sweets from the spread of refreshments, good only to wrap the window drapes around him and his daemon to shield them from prying eyes and scolding fingers.

“I don’t understand,” he huffs, offering Minerva another biscuit from his hoard. “There’s nothing special about Touka. I just saw him, and he’s as awful as always.”

Minerva turns up a pink nose at the snack, instead resting her chin on his knee, slit-pupils shining up at him from the dim. “Hela settled early.”

“That doesn’t seem like something to have a party for.” Minerva slips from cat to mouse, picking at the crumbs he’s leaving all over his frock. “After all, now she can’t be anything fun. She’ll just always be a big dumb dog.”

“Wolf.”

The distinction is arbitrary; Hela looks like any other dog, just bigger. “They should have been like us. You’ll never settle.”

“Of course I will,” Minerva scoffs, whiskers quivering as she turns a bit of shortbread in her paws. “You’re just too small.”

He stills, biscuit halfway to his lips. He’d never thought of that, that there would ever be a time that Minerva would not be what they needed most. “Touka isn’t.”

“He’s older,” she says, matter of fact. “And it only means that there’s something about him that’s certain, even now.”

Izana mulls this over, crunching thoughtfully. “And that’s good?”

Minerva is the still one now, even her whiskers motionless. “Not always.”

“You’ll be like Touka,” Father says, voice rumbling through the dark of the carriage. Moonlight limns the craggy lines of his face, its peaks as unyielding and unforgiving as the mountains of Mother’s home. “You’ll be decisive.”

He doesn’t look at him as her speaks; no, it is Kallisto that does, eyes shining in the dark like every monster he’s imagined. Minerva curls tighter against his neck, trembling.

Father clenches his hand so tightly the leather of his gloves creaks. “And yours will be right, too.”

Months later, his brother is born. But he almost isn’t.

“Chord around his neck,” the physician says with a bright smile. “Nearly choked the poor thing to death. Right as rain now, of course.”

“Do you want to hold him?” mother asks, still pale, hair plastered to her forehead and neck.

He doesn’t, but Father is away, Haruka in tow, and that leaves him as the man of the manor.

“Of course.” His arms jerk forward to accept the tiny bundle, graceless, like one of the stringed puppets in the market square’s theater.

It’s lighter than he expects; he nearly drops it in surprise. The physician offers a seat to help him shoulder the burden, but he doesn’t need it, not when his brother is so shriveled and undersized. He looks less like a baby and more like an old grape found under the sofa cushions, red and wrinkled and ugly.

“He’s –” The word ‘beautiful’ sticks on his lips; not because it’s a lie – he long ago grew accustomed to those – but because his brother’s eyes open, unfocused and unblinking, and find his.

They’re blue; not the steel of Father’s, but the deep, pure indigo of Mother’s. Just like his own.

There’s so much trust in them. He hasn’t learned not to give that so freely.

Maybe, if Izana takes care, he never will.

“His name is Zen,” Mother sighs.

“Zen.” Izana curls a finger down his brother’s cheek. “Hello.”

Something quivers in the blanket, just above his heart. Struggling against the linen of the swaddle, a butterfly, wings still wet, creeps up his brother’s chest. It quivers just under his chin, making the babe squirm in his wrappings.

“His daemon,” Minerva supplies, hushed in awe. “Does she have a name?”

Bassa Aske’s narrow face doesn’t allow for a smile, but his mouth settles in a lynxish grin. “Not until you name her.”

“Aske,” Mother breathes, eyes wide in question.

“Kallisto won’t like that.” Minerva changes shape restlessly on his shoulders, growing smaller and smaller and hugging to him tighter and tighter.

“Then she should have been here.” Bassa Aske lets out a huff. “She’ll get over it, in time.”

Izana frowns. Maybe Kallisto might, but his father...

Father never forgets a slight.

“Feronia.” Father’s mouth is a straight line, a pale slash across his face. “I suppose that’s fair enough.”

Kallisto’s tail lashes in irritation.

“At least it’s another son,” he continues, turning his back on both. Izana wishes his brother was older, just a little, so he might hold on to someone, might feel them hold on back.

Father’s eyes linger on Minerva, but she stays her ground. Only Izana can feel how she shivers at his feet.

“Now have another, in case one of you is a disappointment.”

[ruleofexception]

When the Garden Whispers, Cont. (Earth)

Chapter 1

“A florist -” Obi snorts and takes another sip of ale, “- that was clever, Miss.”

Shirayuki hums, the sound hardly audible over the buzz of the crowded tavern, and stares into the seemingly bottomless mug clenched between her hands; the back of her neck prickles pleasantly, telling her that he’s staring at her, but she doesn’t dare look up.

If she looks to him, now, he’ll know that there’s a weed growing through her mind. A treacherous thing that’s ensnaring and tangling thoughts that should be filled with relief and joy. Choking them until they’ve wilted and turned sour.

Though, it’s likely that he already knows something is amiss. They’ve been together for a small eternity. He always knows when something is off. Sometimes, even before she does. But, if she knows him at all, he’ll continue to make idle conversation until they’re back in their room at the inn down the street; far from prying eyes and open ears.

“Most talented florist I’ve ever known.” hands, warm and familiar, reach forward to surround hers. The ale within her cup trembles along with her bottom lip. “Though, I may be a little biased.”

A breathy giggle forces its way from her lungs and she glances at him through her lashes; seems he’s figured it out, without her needing to say anything. “Only a little.”

“You want to get out of here?” Obi’s nose wrinkles, “It’s a little noisy for my liking.”

Sniffling, she nods.

“Okay.” Squeezing her hands reassuringly, Obi stands and moves to pay their tab, leaving her to stare into her mug once more.

A grim reflection stares back, almost unrecognizable in the dark liquid.

It’s a reflection she hasn’t seen since Tanbarun. One she didn’t expect to see, again. It had been so long, since she’d seen it - long before she’d found Obi and ventured into the chaos of Clarines. So long, she’d nearly forgotten this was once a face she knew. A face she wore.

It grins sickeningly at her and taps at its temple, knowingly. Panic claws at her heart and, scrunching her eyes shut, she chugs the foul, warm ale. When she slams the mug back down on the table, victorious over the beast lurking in the liquid, Obi coughs.

She hadn’t realized he’d returned so quickly. Forcing a smile, glancing up to meet his steady, concerned gaze, her knees creak as she comes to a stand, “All set?”

“Sure.” Obi eyes her warily, questions burning in his golden eyes, but he holds his tongue and offers her his arm.

Carefully threading her arm through his, she swallows hard and lets Obi lead her free from the crowded tavern and into the cool night air.

Their faces, plagued with a poisonous fungi, stare down at her and pull her from her dreams.

She runs.

Their voices, haunting moans filtered through the spores growing in their lungs, call out to her and beckon her to join them.

She hides.

Their joints, creaking like ancient forests, follow her in the dark and echo through the only home she’s ever known.

She prays that they don’t find her, sobbing beneath the cupboards.

It’s not supposed to be like this. They’re not supposed to be like this.

She’d done exactly as the spell had said...

But those things out there… they are not her grandparents.

Not anymore.

Bolting upright, a scream rips itself from her throat and her head swirls with the dark memories. Somewhere beside her, Obi jolts awake with a startled hiss. The wind that says he’s shifted, blows through the room and not a second later he’s cursing, fumbling in the dark to light a lantern.

“Miss?” his voice, thick with sleep, and still maintaining the low purr he’d have in his feline form, curls around her and eases her terrified heart.

A dull orange glow grows to fill the room as the lantern finally catches and Shirayuki shuts her eyes before dropping her head into her trembling hands. A cold sweat has broken out across her skin, causing her nightgown to stick to her back. Cling to her chest.

“Miss?” The faces from her nightmare begin to dissolve and Obi tentatively rests a warm hand on her bare, clammy shoulder, “Is everything alright? You’re… you’re shaking?”

Swallowing hard, fingers digging lightly into her scalp, her breath rattles uncertainly. “I’m fine, Obi. Just… just a dream.”

The response is far weaker than she’d hoped. Obi’s thumb brushes gently over her shoulder, raising goosebumps where it passes. He doesn’t believe her.

“You’re a terrible liar, Miss.” he whispers, tone carrying a hint of teasing, “Always have been.”

Inhaling deeply through her nostrils, slowly peeling her face from her palms, she forces a tired smile and looks to where concerned gold watch her intently. When she tries to speak again, her voice catches in her throat and makes her eyes burn, “I… I’ll be okay. It’s been a while, since I’ve had no restrictions and felt that much power. That’s all.”

She hates lying to him. Hates that he doesn’t know what she’s done. But how could she possibly bring it up, now? It’s been a decade. And each time she means to tell him, she finds herself too terrified to even manage a single word.

How is she supposed to tell him she’d tried to bring them back? How is she supposed to say she’d used her grandparents inheritance to pay for a Black spell… and that it hadn’t worked as she’d thought. That it had brought life back to their corpses, but it was a dark life. A poisonous one. One that grew and spread like kalmia latifolia pollen. One that took them away from her, a second time.

But more importantly… how does she tell him that, despite the spell’s failure and horror she’d felt… she’d actually liked the feeling of that power coursing through her veins. She’d enjoyed the way it had melded with the Green magick her grandmother had taught her. The way it had fused with her measly garden tricks and allowed her to do - to be - so much more than she’d been before...

How does she explain that the day she cast that spell, was the day her magick had changed into this force that rules and laws are created to try and control?

Lips pulling into a flat line, Obi looks at her skeptically and narrows his gaze, “If you’re certain that’s all it is.”

Not trusting her words. Not trusting she won’t start blabbering about grandparents and Black magick, she nods stiffly. Sighing, removing his hand from her shoulder, Obi moves to shutter the lantern again.

With the light extinguished, the air in the room starts to swirl and panic grips her heart so fiercely, she shouts, “O-Obi, wait-” hand shooting out in the dark, green sparks dancing along her fingertips, she grabs for him before he can shift.

Fingers sliding easily between his, she notices, with some alarm, that she really is shaking quite violently. Although, she’s no longer sure if it’s from the nightmare or what she’d stopped him for.

She’s just now realizing that she’s not sure what she’s doing. Has no clue what to say. How to ask. This isn’t something she’s ever done. Not once, in all their time together has she asked him to... to…

“Miss?” it comes as a low purr in the darkness and a shiver rips through her with such force she has to bite back a small moan.

“Please… d-don’t shift back? Just for tonight, could you… would you mind, staying as… as, ah, you?” The room may be dark, but she squeezes her eyes shut tight and hisses through her teeth; as though doing so may make his rejection more bearable in the end.

It’s silly, for her to ask. There’s never been any indication that the tightness in her chest - the swirling heat in her belly - is a shared emotion. And why would there be? He spends most of his days lounging about as a sleek black cat. 

Even if he doesn’t say it, it seems he prefers that form. She’s offered, in the past, to share the bed. Or to even pay to get him his own room at an inn, if he’d rather. But he’s always declined. Choosing, instead, to curl upon the sheets as a feline.

Which is fine.

Having him in her life at all, is more than she could have hoped for... but still, once in a while, her heart wants more.

Tonight, she just has an actual reason to warrant asking him to stay human; not just ‘I want you to stay’. 

The room is too still. 

Holding her breath, about to force out a laugh and tell him it’s fine, she gasps softly as his fingers, twined with hers, give a gentle squeeze. Obi’s voice, hardly more than a whisper, crawls out of the darkness and caresses her, “Of course, Miss.”

The air from her lungs all but vanishes. Holding back grateful, relieved tears, she lets Obi pull her back down to the stiff mattress. Expertly, he maneuvers her until she’s tucked safely beneath his chin.

Cautiously fanning her hands out across his chest, over the large scar that hides beneath his shirt, she waits for him to pull back or ask her to move her hands. Maybe to say he’s reconsidered and is just going to shift for the evening.

But he doesn’t do any of that. 

He doesn’t move or flinch away from her. Doesn’t say a word. Instead, he unknowingly feeds the fire in her belly as his arms loop slowly around her, coaxing her closer. 

A stray tear winds its way down her cheek as she nuzzles into him, letting the call of his frantic heartbeat lull her back into sleep.

Back into dreams.

[infinitelystrangemachinex]

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."

[squidpro-quo]

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-rae]

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.

[akaivampire]

Eclipse

Wood represents balance

[akagami-no-rae]

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?”

[akaivampire]

Metal represents insecurity and strength

[claudeng80]

Hopes and Dreams (Day 6 - Wood)

Queen Inko of Clarines is only twenty-six years old when she ascends to the throne. The buds on the cherry trees are just opening, the breezes through the castle windows as clear as spring water, but she has no attention to spare for them. Not yet, not now.

There isn’t a sound in the grand hall as she kneels, the rustling of her robes all she can hear, and her uncle’s hands shake as he holds out the crown. Even now something feels wrong, it’s not her place- He settles the crown on her head, as he did for her father before her, and tears run down the new lines on his cheeks into the ermine of his collar. Pride or sorrow, or both, she can’t tell and won’t ask. The last months have been hard on them all.

Inko doesn’t mean to eavesdrop on Aunt Shirayuki talking to Father, because nurse has told her so many times that it’s rude, but the moment they mention the Solstice, interrupting them is absolutely the last thing she wants.

“You don’t sit together as a family and exchange gifts? I thought that was Clarinese tradition?”

Father sounds patient. “It is, but we don’t really participate. Zen might not have explained to you, but our mother and father were rarely in the same place. Trying to exchange gifts would have-” He pauses, an unusual sound. “It would have ended badly.”

“But we all get along now. Could we not-” Shirayuki’s voice cracks just a little bit, and Inko remembers her talking about how much she misses her grandparents, how happy she is to have a family again. “Would you consider it?”

Izana sighs, but it doesn’t take him but a moment to relent. “I will set aside time. You’re right, we’ve neglected this tradition far too long. Zen will appreciate it as well.”

Thankfully, nurse had prepared her for this eventuality. Mother lets her deliver the gold coins to their personal guards and she has treasures put away for other friends (a picture of a bird for Guardsman Kai, who showed her where in the castle the swallows nest, and a perfect feather for Sir Obi, who’ll tell her a fantastic story about it when she gives it to him), but her gifts for her parents are a secret even from them. “It should be a gift from your heart,” said nurse. “Something that shows you were thinking about what is important to them.”

She’s not quite sure what Aunt Shirayuki was thinking, watching her father open his present. The wrapping falls away, leaving a pair of socks lying across the palm of the king of Clarines. “Socks,” he says, his voice thin in the room gone suddenly silent. He pinches the cloth between his fingers.

“I knitted them myself,” Aunt Shirayuki says, proud, and Uncle Zen laughs so hard tears run down his cheeks.

At the ball, Inko makes her rounds, careful not to spend too much time with any group, show too much favor to any faction. There will be time for that, later. She’s her father’s daughter. She knows how the game is played.

It’s not the same without him here, though. She subtly draws a guild representative into Lady Haruka’s orbit, separates Sir Obi from the inebriated general he was teasing, and there’s no king of Clarines smirking back at her when she turns around. The chair is empty until she chooses to fill it, and he has no more praise or critique to give. It’s not - she never thought she’d be queen while Izana lived, but she never expected it to come so soon.

For once, there are no guests for dinner and they get to eat as just a family. Inko feels so grown up, eating off the good plates just like Mother and Father. She eyes the empty seat at the head of the table. Like Mother, at least. She picks up the tiny fork she thinks is the right one and picks at her fish.

“Is Izana not coming?” Aunt Shirayuki asks Uncle Zen, and he flinches.

“He’s had another letter from the barons. He’s been in his office all afternoon composing a response.”

Aunt Shirayuki frowns down at her plate, then pushes her chair back with a screech. “I’ll be right back,” she says, and footmen stare open-mouthed as she stomps out of the room.

Inko watches her mother, stunned. You don’t just walk out of a meal like that, that’s entirely against the rules- But Mother just lifts an oyster to her mouth, serene. There might even be a bit of a smile on her lips. She turns to Uncle Zen and asks him how the recovery efforts in Yuris are going.

When Aunt Shirayuki returns, she sits down without a word and digs into her cooling dinner. Everyone else is nearly finished, the bustle of the incoming second remove already audible behind the doors. Uncle Zen doesn’t meet her eyes. “Thank you,” she says when the footman picks up her half-finished dish, and he nods in acknowledgment. Nobody else says a word, but they’re used to it from her.

They’re just laying down the next set of dishes when the door creaks open again. Father pauses in the space, wincing when he sees no plate in front of his empty seat. “I’ve been reminded that food is necessary for my continued survival.” Aunt Shirayuki doesn’t quite look at him, and he doesn’t look at her. Instead he meets Inko’s eyes. “And that someone was waiting for me. I’m sorry I’m late.”

The crowds draw back from Mother wherever she goes, too many people too uncomfortable in front of the king’s widow. Aunt Shirayuki takes her arm and leads her to the refreshment table, a cardinal towing a black swan. Mother smiles, though, comforted by the fussing, and in passing she effortlessly soothes a dispute between two members of the Parliament. She makes it look so easy. Inko wishes she weren’t so adamant about taking Grandmother Haruto’s example. She’s going to miss her terribly.

“Why don’t Uncle Zen and Aunt Shirayuki have any kids?” Mother’s hand pauses on Inko’s hair for a second, then the brush pulls at her with a twinge. “I wish I had cousins.”

There’s a certain kind of silence when grownups are trying to pull together the right answer to a question. She hadn’t thought it would be that difficult. The reason must be good, must be important, because they’re the best aunt and uncle imaginable. They’d be great parents.

“They’ve chosen not to.” The swish of the brush through hair picks up again, soothing. “Uncle Zen is focusing on being a good prince, a help to the kingdom, and they love you very much.”

“But couldn’t they love me and some cousins too?”

Mother sighs again. “It’s not-” She stops herself, starts over. “It’s their choice to make, and it’s for the good of Clarines. The barons-” She stops herself again. That’s always the end of the conversation.

Uncle Zen looks exhausted where he stands in a knot of northern nobles. Inko might have worried her uncle would have followed her father too closely into death were it not for Shirayuki and Sir Obi’s tireless care. The ordeal has aged him, though, and Shirayuki has made hints about stealing him away to Yuris for a vacation. Inko is in favor of the plan, as soon as she can spare him. They’re nearly a second set of parents, her aunt and uncle. She needs them, but at the same time they’re too dear to her to risk.

The royal progress to Yuris Island has not lived up to Inko’s expectations. The sand is dazzling white and the trees are exotic, the houses are so different from home, and yet all she gets to do is sit while people talk. Sometimes it’s Father, sometimes the island leader, sometimes the Count, but it's all deadly boring.

Inko wiggles, shifting her weight from leg to leg, but she settles when she catches the look in the corner of Father’s eye. She sighs, as much protest as she can get away with at times like this, and Aunt Shirayuki leans over to the long-haired woman beside her. They snicker together, quietly, and Shirayuki beckons to Inko. It hardly seems possible, but Mother nods permission and she’s free.

She manages not to skip on the way out of the room, just barely.

Miss Kihal’s bird is waiting on the railing as soon as the three of them leave the house, ruffling his feathers as he hops to Kihal’s outstretched hand. She kneels down by Inko. “Would you like Popo to ride on your shoulder? It’s his favorite place.”

When the meetings are finally over and Father and Mother come to find her, Inko’s up to her elbows in the sand. She’s building while Aunt Shirayuki and Miss Kihal chat with their bare feet just kissed by the edges of the rushing waves. Aunt Shirayuki helped her master the art of walls, and Popo’s bringing her sticks for the trees, and she’s been using shells for the gardens and greenhouses, but she just can’t make the buildings tall enough. Every single time they slump, featureless, to the ground. She’s just clearing away the latest attempt when the king and queen arrive.

“What’s this, darling?” Mother didn’t grow up there, maybe she doesn’t recognize it, but Inko’s been looking at the maps her whole life.

She doesn’t expect Father to answer before she can. “It looks like Wistal to me.” He smiles and kneels to the ground beside her, and she thinks she should point out he’s getting sand on his fancy clothes, but she really wants him to stay. “Would you like some help with the keep?”

His hands are no more skilled with the sand than hers, but together they can make do. When they leave, at last, grains of sand still trapped between Inko’s fingers and Izana’s, the waves lap at the castle walls behind them. They did good work.

The prince of Ivora bows over her hand, full of congratulations and condolences. His mother the queen looks on from nearby; they will be speaking of trade and alliances later, after the ceremonies are done, but Inko doesn’t think she’s fooling herself seeing approval in the woman’s eyes. Inko’s not entirely opposed to the prince, either; his manners are impeccable every time they meet, but there’s a light in his eyes that reminds her a bit of Sir Obi. She suspects he might be a lot of fun, given the chance. Fun or trouble. If only she had the time to find out.

The new parliament convenes on Inko’s birthday. Mother explains that this is an important event to Father and they might not see him for a few days.

That’s nothing new to Inko, and Mother is the most gracious of hostesses as guests start arriving. All the castle children, from Marquis Haruka’s grandson to the potboys from the kitchen are invited to the garden party.

There’s a cake with four layers and strawberry icing - Inko sees the undergrooms’ eyes go wide and makes sure they get the first pieces - and Aunt Shirayuki teaches everyone games from Tanbarun. There’s one that involves a lot of hopping and animal noises, and the garden is a noisy menagerie while the scattering of adults stand around in the corner. Even Aunt Shirayuki’s joined them now, exhausted from her goat impression and Sir Obi’s incessant teasing.

The squires all wanted to be horses, so when their shrill whinnying falls silent all at once, Inko goes looking for the cause. Everyone’s standing frozen, staring at where her father stands under the arching garden gate, framed in blooms. He looks a bit surprised, but not too much to grab Inko out of the air when she throws herself at him.

“Happy birthday,” he says.

To think her father did this nearly alone.

Inko tries to imagine being thrust into this ten years younger, responsible for a sibling with mother mourning and plots on every side. It’s overwhelming just thinking about it.

Her father loved her, not just in the abstract, but with every minute he spent preparing her for today. He gave her the childhood he never got, the loving family he had to have wished for. If only she’d told him she understood, taken the chance to thank him. The only thing he didn’t give her was enough time.

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

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.”

Read more