#answeek2019

[onedivinemisfit]

AnS Week 2019 Day 3: Wind - in which freedom is the wind in your hair and the sun on your skin, and when you stretch out your hands, you grasp the horizon and never let go

Did a take on the Shirayuki from chapter’s 107 cover, which is imo one of the most beautiful depictions of her. qwq

Also felt good to paint a sunset again, been so long since I did it last~ <w<

AnS (c) Akizuki Sorata Art: Me

[purpledragon57]

ANS Week Day Five - Free Day

Free to use icons! Please like/reblog if using

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

Congrats on 500 followers! I have a simple (shameless) prompt. I loved All That Glitters and I would feel utterly blessed if you gave the world another ZenYuki fluff. Thank you!!!

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

Zen has always been fond of the castle by firelight. As a boy, he slipped his minders leash more times than he cared to count, sneaking between the halos of torchlight and into the many shadows they afforded him. There was a certain freedom inthe silence, in the way his boots would echo in the emptiness while all but theguard slept. Squeezing into a crawl space between statues here and grabbing ahandhold among the trellis’s there, he was alone. An adventurer exploring new lands. A soldier heading off to war. A knight in search of a dragon to slay. All while being blessedly unseen.

He hadloved the dark. The anonymity of it had been… peaceful. A respite from the expectations of his birth. Truth be told, he still does - seeking it out just like the moon seeks the sky. The way light forges its own path through it is beautiful. Memorable. And in his own way, hesupposed, he understood Obi because of that. Found kinship with him and envy in the way that he never lost his casual relationship with something that Zen couldonly have in secret.

But rightnow, that darkness was getting in his way.

“Shirayuki!” He doesn’t know if it is thesoles of his boots or the tick of his heart that is pounding against the walls.“Shirayuki!”

And maybe, he thinks, heowes his retainers an apology.

~ ~ ~

Music swells, drowning out the rustle of cloth and creak of bones as the entirecathedral – including Zen, including the King – rise to their feet. And, in thecenter of it all, she stands among them. Rules them. For this brief moment, for thissingle minute in history, she is bestowed something approaching the respect that she deserves.

And she takes it. Like a dream,Shirayuki steps through sunlight stained by colored glass, down the aisle and up thealtar to claim her prize. 

She’s a vision in white, like he always knew shewould be, her hair curled and laced through with diamonds and rubies and pearls,wisteria dripping from her hands.

Her headbows as she stands before him. Even veiled, he can still see the emerald of hereyes, the burn of her blush, the bright shock of her hair.

Andwithout waiting for him to even offer, her gloved hands slide into his. Taking him boldly before the kingdom gives her the right.

Dearly beloved…

~ ~ ~

He’s panicking. 

The rush of blood deafens him, makes him sloppy. He’s already tried her rooms. And the pharmacy. And the rooftops and the hothouses. Each location, empty. Each location, swept clean and brightly lit and completely empty in preparation for today.

With every second he fails to find her, doubt creeps into his veins. Reminds him of his station. Of the multitude of reasons he might be too much trouble.

It would have been better if you were never born a Prince…

Heart in his throat, he rounds another corner. Maybe he should summon the guard. Inform them that there is a problem with security. Send out the call that Shirayuki has been kidnapped. Has run away. Has gotten cold feet and she doesn’t–

The leather of his boots screech against marble.

And he stops.

And stares.

There, in the dark of the garden, framed by the gaudy monstrosity of golden swans and colored lights and arches of water making up the fountain that could only be a gift from Prince Raj himself, Shirayuki stands. Eyes shut and mouth moving as she sways ever so slightly, hands folded tightly above her stomach.

His knees go weak, and he collapses against the nearest pillar. Ah, he was going to have to speak with Mitsuhide about his training schedule soon - All this paperworkwas finally starting to catch up with him. 

“Shirayuki,” he calls out, more breathless than he likes. “What are you doing?”

She comes to a sudden and guilty hault, spinning on her heel.

���Zen!”

~ ~ ~

“PrinceZen,” Lord Brecker interjects, not even a full five steps after he’s extracted himself from Lord Lido’s well wishes. “There’s still the matter of the land claim in the Yuris. If you could just speak with His Majesty on my behalf–”

It’s onlyyears of watching his brother that keeps his face from crumpling like a used tissue. With a carefully neutral smile in place, he nods along to the old bag. And maybe, just maybe, he entertains the thought of following Obi’s advice and absconding for a fortnight.

It wasn’tfair. It was their wedding day. But every noble in the country who was not ontheir deathbed was in attendance, all eager to remind him of their presence from the moment they walked into the ballroom. And, what felt like hours but was likely only minutes later, he was still he was wading through endlessmembers of nobility and visiting royalty.

“Excuseme.” A drink slides into his hand, a broad hand skating the length of hisshoulders. “His Highness is needed elsewhere for a moment.”

Zen onlyjust catches the flint of gold and the nudge of a leg against the back of his knee before theroom spins, Breckers annoyed face being exchanged for the faceless multitude. He looks to his side, and up.

A smile blooms across his lips. “ThanksObi,” he sighs, and lets himself be led. Hopefully to Shirayuki. “I wasn’t looking forward to whatever gripe he had about Kihal this time.”

Obi’s hand falls from his shoulder in a casual shrug. “You looked like you were drowning back there.”

“Mmph,” he takes a careful sip and jolts in surprise. It’s wine. Watered down. Zen casts Obi a long gaze out of the corner of his eye. “You would think they would give me some breathing room today out of all days.”

“There isno day off for a Prince, I suppose.”

Zen narrows his eyes even more, watching as that cat-like demeanor slants towards him.

“But,” Obi muses, in a tone too much like Izana for Zen’s poor heart. “Oh my,if you are the Prince, I wonder where the Princess might be?”

Zen blinks. “You’re not bringing me to her?” He scans the room. There’s a million faces, none of them the one he is looking for. “Wait. Weren’tyou supposed to be watching her?”

“WhyMaster!” Five fingers splay across Obi’s chest, brows arched. “You asked me to attend to you tonight,remember?” 

~ ~ ~

“I’msorry,” Zen takes a step forward, straining to pick her voice out from the shower of the fountain. “What did you say?”

Shirayuki’s hands are fisted at her side, shoulders reaching for her ears. And she blurts, 

“What ifI step on your feet?!”

Zen stops. Blinks. Stares at her, at a loss. “This has really been bothering you, hasn’t it?”

A delicate flush works its way up her neck and shesquirms. “We’re going to be dancing in front of everyone and I-” Her hands flex against empty air. “I don’twant to embarrass you!”

“Shirayuki.” He takes a step forward. “You won’t.”

“But what if I do?”

“Then go ahead and step on my feet!” Zen shrugs, lip tugging at one side when her mouth falls open. “What are they going to do? Revoke our marriage license? Demand that I divorce you for failing to complete a perfect turn?”

“Zen!”But she’s laughing now, cheeks flushed and eyes glittering. Dabbing at the corner of her eyes with a kerchief, she sniffs, “Be serious. Your brother–”

“Our brother,”he corrects softly, closing the distance between them. He takes her wrist, pulling the tissue away from her face. “Remember? My family is your family now. Nothing’s going to change that. Least of all some silly dance.”

Shirayuki’s eyes swell, face going blotchy, and she looks around, worried about the shadows that are doubtlessly watching them.

Brushingaside his cape, Zen extends his hand towards her. Like then, like always. “Comehere.”

She ducksher head, body suddenly so shy.

“Shirayuki,”he breathes again. “Please. I would like to dance with my wife.”

Her mouthparts, wordless, and she stares, tissue gripped tight against her breast.

“Mm,” isall she says, ducking beneath his arms and sliding her free hand into his.Her ring glints in the bare light, the weight of her hand in his something fought for.Something cherished.

~ ~ ~

I call it the Northern Star, he whispered, sliding the diamond band past her knuckles. A perfect fit. WhereverI go, it guides me back to you.

~ ~ ~

Musicswells in the distance between the gentle song of night critters and the trickle of the fountain, and Zen swaysmore than follows any particular set of steps until she stops shaking. Until the heaving of her back subsides, and then calms.

“This isnice,” she says softly, her mouth touching his lapel right above his heart. “Butwe should go in soon. They’re probably wondering where we are.”

She makes to pull back, but his hand tightens; molds her to him. There would certainly be no dancing like this once they returned, and he- well, he likes it.

“Wait,” he whispers, lacing his fingers through her hair. “Just a little whilelonger.”

Shirayukitucks her face against his neck, wet lashes tickling his pulse. A shiver races down his spine.

“Okay. Just a minute.”

“Mm.” Hepulls back, just slightly, pinching her chin between thumb and forefinger. Her head tilts back, hair spilling down over her shoulders and eyes wide and shimmering the same as they were that day so long ago in Kokoku Watchtower.

“Yea,” hebreathes against her lips. “It might take a few minutes more.”

[akagami-no-rae]

ANS Week Day 7 - Snow 

“Let’s go listen to the band, then you should get some sleep...”

[purpledragonsart]

ANS Week Day One - Sunshine

[squidpro-quo]

Wind

AN: Modern!au because I can never resist a good heist and thieves are my favorite type of characters. 

“You know, I didn’t sign on to be the face.” Obi’s voice sounded tinny through Zen’s earpiece but the put-upon quality of it came through loud and clear. 

“The face?” Zen questioned as he leaned down to look over Kiki’s shoulder and watched the cameras pan slowly over Obi as he neared the entrance. Thank goodness for mob bosses and their fanatically obsessive security system, it made their job so much easier to just hijack what was already there, and in such high resolution color too. 

“I’m the hands of this operation, you’re the face, and Shirayuki’s the mastermind,” Obi muttered, eyes meeting Zen’s through the camera feed for a split second before he kept his gaze moving. “You don’t switch those elements up and expect it to be smooth sailing.”

“We already agreed, Obi. They made me last time, so our only ace up our sleeve is your complete anonymity. Embrace the face.” Remembering the hours of discussion over how to go about doing the job, he knew Obi would perform his role no matter the gripes or groans that might come over the line. He would admit that putting him as the frontrunner was rather like trying to contain wind in a box, it wasn’t free to move as it wanted and sneak in where it would, but unfortunately, Zen had already blown his own chance at it. 

 He traced the pixels that made up Obi’s figure with a slow look, wishing he could be there even more. It had taken some convincing to get Obi to wear what he suggested, but it looked even better than his imagination could have foretold. It was truly a sin that life did not put Obi in suits more often, the tux’s sharp lines doing him all kinds of favors while the camera did not do it full justice in the least. He’d just have to convince Obi to don it once more for him and Shirayuki, another time. 

And speaking of Shirayuki, he checked her progress towards the safe and crouched next to her by the grating, taking one look at the concoctions in her lap and figuring it safe to leave her to her tinctures; judging by the intense calculations scribbled down before her, distraction was the last thing she needed. 

Returning to the cameras, Zen wished yet again that he had something more to do than just watch and wait. Obi had reached the weapons check area only one step from the main hall and stood with his hands in his pockets as the guard gestured through the prohibited list of items. 

“Ah, I understand.” Obi pulled a knife from his pocket and a handgun from his boot, setting them both on the tray laid aside for his things. Standard protocol, if you attended a mob boss’s celebration dinner then you were expected to be packing at least a little, it was more suspicious to bring nothing. It raised questions of what else you could have as leverage. Zen nodded approvingly, so far so good, now to keep moving—

But Obi continued, unsheathing a set of knives from both pant legs, extracting each from the holsters in order from smallest to largest and laying them carefully on the table, before sliding yet another pistol from his jacket. Finally, he handed over the silencer for it and gestured with a roguish smile. 

“All clean. Don’t forget, I’ll be wanting those back.” He strode into the venue and Zen wondered why he’d been reticent to be there if he could joke around like that. 

“What were all of those? When did you put those on?” Zen asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose instead of sighing. “That was unnecessary.”

“Got your attention though, didn’t it?” Obi snagged a glass of champagne and took a sip before continuing. “What are you going to do? Give me a patdown next time?” 

Zen was glad they were in the maintenance shafts, where the bad lighting could hide the fact that his face felt hotter than the chemical fires Shirayuki sometimes set and he could chalk his distracted cough down to the dust floating in the air. Kiki didn’t spare him more than a glance, but even that was enough to let him know he hadn’t fooled her. 

“Mission first,” he managed to choke out. 

“We’ll discuss what comes later,” Obi agreed, the purr in his voice not helping Zen’s matters much but thankfully they were interrupted by a group of men approaching Obi. Leaving him to schmooze with the best, Zen got himself more under control during the short walk back to Shirayuki, finding her mixing the last batch with a self-satisfied hum. 

“I heard him,” she said before he could make any excuses. “Let’s finish this quickly.” 

Unlike him, she was too professional to let anything like that distract her from their work, but even she wasn’t above being motivated by a sense of urgency that wasn’t entirely from the promise of money and a lot of jewels that lay at the end of the line. 

Passing him a vial, she kicked open the hatch above the vault’s entrance and jumped. Zen’s heart leaped into his throat, wondering if she’d grown reckless in her haste but she beckoned to him to follow as she set off towards the reinforced door. Dropping into the hall, he straightened up to find the junction of the three corridors an unnerving amount of open space to have at their backs as they worked. The vault door yielded to the contents of Shirayuki’s beakers, slowly eating through the outer casing and revealing the keypad underneath centimeter by centimeter. One workaround for a keycard was merely melting through what it opened, but that only worked for so many inches of hard steel with what little corrosive concoction Shirayuki could make that wouldn’t also be melting through the alarm system embedded inside. 

Zen couldn’t keep himself from glancing over his shoulder every few seconds. His usual job was working the crowds, finding the weaknesses in people’s smiles and small talk, and the long meters of empty hallway surrounding them left him with no cover from anything. How could he ever talk his way out of this one, if it came down to it? There might be more mobsters up there but the weapons were words, and although he could handle anything Obi had set on the table, it was where others were stripped bare that he could keep his facade intact. 

“Got it,” came the soft whisper in their ears as Obi disengaged from the target. Zen could imagine the look in Obi’s eyes as he lounged against the side of a pillar as if checking his watch while those white-gloved fingers fondled the champaigne’s flute stem in apparent boredom. “Fifteen, twenty-seven, eight hundred ninety three.” 

Zen punched in the numbers as soon as Obi said them, letting out his held breath when the click sounded and the door swung open. Doubt didn’t have any place in their line of work, and neither did hesitation. 

“Get out now. We’ll see you in ten,” he said, locking eyes with Shirayuki and hurrying to grab what they’d come for. They had a bigger prize waiting for them later.

[fafi-shal]

My Sunshine

"Mitsuhude!" Kiki screamed in panic. She ran towards him, shifting her gaze across the scene. There he was, lying in the middle of the clearing on his side with both his hands pressed to his chest, covered in blood. Unusually, his sword was thrown away from his side.

She was only few feet in front of him when she slowed her pace. It was all quiet except for the sound of his heavy breathing. Danger is gone. Kiki crouched beside him and started shaking him.

"Mitsuhude, say something, wake up."

"Is that you Kiki?" Glancing up on her, he could clearly see how panicked she was, even with his blurred vision.

"Yes its me. Let me see your injury." He moved his hands showing a stab at his chest. She ripped his shirt and saw that the weapon had been embedded in his chest, too close to reach the heart. He had been bleeding too much nothing could be done. He got aware of the fact, feeling her hands tense and seeing the color drain from her face.

Kiki ripped out part of his shirt and started wrapping it around the wound. "Stop it. You know it's useless," Mitsuhude whispered. "Don't give up easily, there might still be a chance."

"You can't even convince yourself," he said pointing at her eyes. He was right because tears were prickling in the corner of her eyes. She dashed them away and continued working.

Struggling to form the words, he said, "I - I have to say something." She tied the last knot and placed his head on her lap. "Go on."

"I love you... I always did... with every day that passed by... my feelings grew more passionate... I treasured all my moments with you... from the bottom of my heart." He couldn't say anymore, for he was breathing heavily. Meanwhile, Kiki's eyes grew bigger with unshed tears.

"I also do, I love you so much. You-" a sob was threatening her voice and she had to swallow hard. Tears were racing down her eyes and dripping from the bridge of her nose. He was always there by her side to support her and she also loved him so much. She wanted to express her love in the simplest way.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine " She sang honey-like, sweet and slow.

"You make me happy, when skies are gray You never know dear, how much I love you Please don't take my sunshine away"

Mitsuhide's eyes have fluttered shut, and his chest is moving only slightly. Tears were rolling down Kiki's face in an unbroken stream.

"Please don't take my sunshine away."

She lowered her head letting her blonde strands fall on his face, allowing their lips to touch. Time seemed to stop at that kiss. It was a consolation to their sore feelings. She then raised her head slowly, her eyes red and cheeks wet. Smiling, Mitsuhide wiped her tears with the back of his hand. She pressed it against her cheek and felt its coldness however it slipped to his side. She groaned, "no, I love, this can't be the end!" She checked his pulse, it was still beating with hope.

Kiki retrieved the sword, wrapped Mitsuhide's arm around her shoulder and stood up ready to face any danger. Then she made her way back through the wilderness and muggers. She did not lose that tiny hope in arriving quickly to the nearest doctor and saving her love's life.

I hope you enjoyed reading, this is my first fanfiction, I was very hesitant to post it. I'd be glad if you gave me feedback so I could improve and be better ☺️☺️☺️

[muselover1901]

Sunshine

Hey! I know it’s super late, but AnS Week just happened to coincide with the hardest week of my semester thus far, so writing took a backseat to other life things. But behold! I have produced one piece! I couldn’t have done it without my amazing beta/supportive soul sister, @puffdragongirl. Thanks also to @akagami-no-rae for checking in with me last week to make sure I was doing okay. You two ladies are both amazing humans and I am so grateful for you. Anyway, here’s the story! Inspired by the song Pinô by Otto Totland. Will eventually be posted to AO3 once fully beta’d.

As the sun sent warm, dappled patches dancing across her head, Shirayuki sighed. The mountain air was a little chilly, but that suited her just fine. The cold northern air was well worth the escape with friends.

Ahead of her, Obi juggled a small stick between his fingers as he absentmindedly gazed over the foliage in an attempt to appear at ease. Shirayuki knew this wasn’t truly the case, as he hadn’t completely relaxed in all the years she’d known him. Always being at least a little on edge was not only part of his job, it was just the kind of person he was. She smiled at his effort.

Obi was also keeping an eye on Mitsuhide, who was just a few paces ahead of him and taking unusually long strides in an attempt to keep up with Kiki, who was outpacing them all despite her smaller stature. In his haste, Mitsuhide tripped over an exposed root and Obi chuckled to himself.

“Need a hand there, Mister?” Obi teased, eyes crinkling with the smile he tried to repress as Mitsuhide turned to glower at him, responding with a retort of his own. Kiki ignored them, as usual.

Although she was happy to see Mitsuhide and Kiki getting along, Shirayuki had to admit that since the day she heard about Kiki’s failed proposal, she’d felt her heart sink a little every time she looked at the two of them. She’d never been very good at picking up on romantic intentions, but she always thought their chemistry was obvious. And now that Kiki would be living primarily at the Seiran estate, things somehow felt even more melancholic. Starting next week, the little group she had come to love so dearly would be separated again.

Separation was nothing she couldn’t handle, though. Glancing to her side, she smiled as she noticed Zen savoring the mountain breeze, eyelids gently sliding shut and a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as the wind ruffled his hair.  She and Zen had been separated for quite a long time, and had both grown considerably since they began their relationship, but some things had never changed. They still found solace in the wild. They still blushed at least a little when trying to be affectionate, but now that they both lived at Wilant Castle, they were actively trying to get better at that. Most importantly, they still inspired each other to be better and work harder, and Shirayuki was extremely grateful for that.

Her new position as ambassador to the pharmacies in the northern region suited her quite well, as it let her travel and interact with patients while giving her the means to tackle bigger issues, like improving the quality of care for patients in more rural regions and developing better technologies for creating medicines. However, the new workload was even more intense than it was during her time as a researcher in Lyrias. She and Zen had been spending their evenings after dinner working in the library, with books and documents sprawled across every inch of table surface they could find. Shirayuki always brought warm cups of tea to help them stay relaxed, and every once in a while, Zen would encourage her with a hand on her shoulder or a quick peck on her cheek.

As much as she loved their little routine, she loved moments like this more. She reached out and grazed her fingers across Zen’s knuckles, silently asking for him to clasp her hand in his. He happily obliged, pulling her closer as they continued to hike behind their friends.

“I think we’re getting pretty close to the top now,” Zen mused. Shirayuki squinted and tilted her head to get a better view of the path ahead of them. Sure enough, the trees thinned, exposing an expanse of flat, weather-worn stone where they could picnic before heading back down.

“We should probably catch up to the others,” Shirayuki suggested, shifting her bag to relieve some of the weight on her shoulder. She hadn’t intended to, but she ended up collecting quite a few specimens along the trail, so she had fallen considerably behind. Zen had been kind enough to dutifully stop with her every time she darted off to take a cutting or seed sample.

“Yeah,” Zen interrupted her thoughts with a grin. “Let’s go!” He took off at a sprint, clutching her hand tightly and tugging her along with him. Shirayuki yelped and laughed as her legs struggled to keep pace.

Ahead of them, Obi was investing his full attention on ribbing poor Mitsuhide, whose face was turning red with embarrassment. As Zen and Shirayuki approached, Zen inexplicably slowed and silenced his footfalls, creeping like a cat over the pebbles and sticks of the trail in an attempt to remain unseen. Shirayuki looked at him questioningly, but Zen held a finger to his lips and tilted his head toward the assassin-turned-knight. Mischief glinted in his eyes as he mouthed, “Grab him.”

Shirayuki couldn’t help but smirk as she realized what Zen was trying to do. Obi had long since been the trickster of the group, and he took great pleasure in the pranks inflicted on his unwitting victims. However, because of his constant vigilance, he was notoriously hard to surprise. Nearly every attempt to get back at him and catch him off guard had failed.

But now, they had an opening. Obi was fully absorbed in bothering Mitsuhide, slinging comments about how his pace seemed incredibly slow for how tall he was.

“My pace is perfectly fine for my height,” Mitsuhide countered, stiffly facing forward.

“I don’t know,” Obi sneered, “you sure you’re not just getting old?”

As Obi chuckled at his own joke, Shirayuki zeroed in on his hand, swinging lazily by his side. Now was her chance. With a quick glance to Zen, who nodded his assent, she dove for Obi’s hand and clasped it roughly in her own. At her touch, Obi went wide-eyed and ramrod straight. He didn’t get a chance to react more than that though, because Zen immediately bolted, dragging both Shirayuki and Obi along with him this time.

Once Obi got his feet under himself, he took in the situation and smiled. Mitsuhide, oblivious to what had just transpired, continued to banter.

“I might be older than you, but in case you haven’t noticed, I’m outpacing you.”

“Psh—at least I’m doing my job!” Obi snickered. Mitsuhide turned to roll his eyes, but was surprised to see Obi tightly holding Shirayuki’s hand as Zen led them all barreling toward him. Before he could make a witty retort, Zen reached out and grabbed him too. The four of them went flying past Kiki in a blur of childlike abandon.

Kiki continued her steady pace, watching her friends tripping and laughing like idiots as they ran to the picnic site. A faint smile softened her face, and she sighed before running to catch up with them.

Clasping her hand around Mitsuhide’s, her smile became a full-fledged grin.

“Whose idea was this?” she shouted over the ruckus. Kiki leveled her gaze at Obi, who shrugged in an attempt to appear innocent. Next, she looked to Shirayuki, who had peeked her head around Zen to grin back.

“I’m just an accomplice, I swear!”

Kiki’s eyes settled on Zen, who was smiling and panting and looking utterly found-out. She smiled back at him.

As they reached the picnic spot, they all let go and collapsed into the soft grass, chests heaving and grinning like children. Shirayuki couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt that free with her friends. The sun warmed her face as she propped herself up to take in the view. All around them were delicate white Yujou daisies, which Mount Hiatari was famous for. Once picked, they were rumored to become imbued with a special kind of magic that would fate two people to become eternal friends. Shirayuki didn’t believe in magic, but the sentiment behind the story resonated with her. She would always stand with Zen, Obi, Mitsuhide, and Kiki regardless of the circumstances that sought to separate them.

Smiling, she plucked a flower and shuffled over to Kiki, who was softly toying with the blades of grass growing a few inches from where her nose lay. Shirayuki silently tucked her daisy into Kiki’s ponytail before bending to pluck another. Kiki looked up at her and smiled warmly. Mitsuhide gazed out over the mountainside at Wilant Castle in the distance, but was startled to find Shirayuki tucking a flower behind his ear. Running over to Obi, Shirayuki pulled another flower, but perhaps a little too hard, because the roots came out along with a thick clump of loam. Obi looked at her skeptically as she dusted it off and removed the roots before tucking it behind his ear.

Selecting one final flower, Shirayuki turned to Zen, who had been watching her attentively the whole time. The corners of his eyes crinkled as she placed the flower behind his ear and ran her fingers through his hair before shyly looking at the ground. For some reason, affectionate gestures had always flustered her more when they were directed at him. After all this time, she still wasn’t that great at romance.

A tickle at her ear snapped her out of her thoughts. She looked up to see Zen gazing at her lovingly, a daisy of his own settling into her red hair as he thumbed her cheek gently. He leaned in and pressed his lips to the top of her head. Shirayuki sighed.

A sun-warmed breeze ruffled their hair as the five friends gazed out over the landscape, silently reveling in the peace of the moment. The pressures of day-to-day life seemed so far below them, up here on Mount Hiatari. And they knew that no matter what the future held for them, they would always have the memory of this day. They would always have each other. 

[claudeng80]

The Future King in Lyrias

The sky is impossibly blue and clear when Prince Izana of Clarines rides through the gates of Lyrias. He doesn’t know which is better, the air crisp and refreshing in his lungs or the fact that his entire retinue is back at the last checkpoint in Zakura’s tender care. Both mean he can breathe freely here.

Lyrias suits him, its solid stones and steep mountainsides more rugged and honest than Wistal’s elegance. He knows how to be Wistal, all double meanings and pretty implications; his parents made sure he knew how to thrive that way. But here, at least for a little while, he can put that aside.

And trust that honesty will win him the prize he’s here to seek.

A late-afternoon fog rolls through the streets and down into the valley as Izana joins the crowd milling around in front of the city hall. His horse and his belongings are settled at a warm inn where he’ll eat homey stew and drink peasant beer later. The Wistal head chef would resign on the spot if she had any idea how much he’s looking forward to the prospect.

Children huddle close to their parents in the sudden chill, and everyone’s feet move a little faster, hoping to get done with their errands and home before darkness falls. The buildings loom, pressed cheek by jowl right up to the edges of city hall. But the doors still gape open, light spilling into the street and glistening on the newly dampened cobbles.

“Riri! Riri!” A woman skitters across the square, calling out. There’s no knowing whether the object of her calls is a fast-moving child or a pet gone missing. The guards should help, he thinks as he passes through into the warmer, brighter entryway.

“How can I direct you?” The clerk stationed at the door looks tired.

“I’d like to speak with Makiri.” It’s a slip, leaving off his title like that. But Makiri doesn’t push for formality among his knights, and perhaps that’s enough.

Or perhaps it’s not, given the look the clerk spears him with. He tries to think like a tradesman as the man catalogs him from head to toe. Or if not a tradesman, a minor noble at most. The fictional kind who’s polite and doesn’t make trouble. “Come back tomorrow,” the man says, dismissing him. “Hours start at noon.”

A sunny smile covers irritation like a charm. “I’ll be back tomorrow then, thank you for your time.” The smile doesn’t last longer than it takes to turn back to the door. He’s got the time to spare, but it’s not what he’d hoped from the evening. He’ll make the most of it, though. The stalls should be open a little longer, perhaps he can find something to offer-

A blond head slams into him, an elegant hand bracing on his chest. The woman teeters back and Izana reaches an arm around her, reeling her in to stable verticality far too close for propriety. Silken hair drapes over his arm as her head tilts up and a pretty mouth purses in surprise. “P-”

“My Lady Haki,” he interrupts with intent, and she presses her lips together. Eyes flicker to his plain garb then lock with his, questioning. She knows perfectly well who he is. But she’s too savvy to ruin his ruse. “I didn’t expect the pleasure of seeing you,” he adds.

“Well, if you would like to extend the pleasure, by all means join us for dinner tonight.” Which is when you’ll explain what you’re up to, her eyes say, and he can’t deny her.

“It would be my honor, my lady.” He inclines his head, and her only acknowledgment is a deepening of the dimple in her cheek. She steps past him, letting his hand trail off her back, and it instantly feels cold with the desire to have her back in his arms. But that’s a prize he hasn’t earned yet. Instead he follows at her heels, her obedient servant.

She never gives him an inch, even once they’re private in the back hallways. “Should I be concerned that you’ve sent us pharmacists? I didn’t know Garrack had so many to spare.”

Apparently Zen’s redhead and Garrack’s boy genius made it in good time. “You can’t keep them. Garrack and I just thought it was time to widen their horizons a bit.”

“That seems to be working.” Haki shakes out her hair, but a lock catches on her collar. Izana’s fingers itch to free it. “They looked a little overwhelmed.”

“I’ll check in on them in the morning, see if I can’t inspire them a bit.”

“Because that won’t intimidate them at all, Your Highness.” He doesn’t have to hide his smirk from her. She understands.

Makiri’s waiting by the fireplace. “You.”

Izana’s smile this time is unfeigned. “It’s good to see you too, Makiri. I see your manners are as polished as ever.”

Makiri’s eyes narrow, but he’s undeterred. It’s early days yet. “And what’s the occasion for your visit?” It’s a fair question, when Izana hasn’t given him the slightest warning.

“Merely taking the temperature of the city.” He waves off the importance. Stating that he’s here to woo Haki would earn him no credit with anyone in the room. Makiri thinks he’s a bad choice for her, and Haki-

She expects better of him.

“Cold,” answers Makiri, as flat and icy as the coastal plains in January. “You can go back to Wistal now.”

“Ah, ah, and then who would intimidate my royal pharmacists if I were to leave so soon? And at the very least I must pay my respects to my mother. I’ll be on my way soon enough.”

“And Zen, is he well?” Haki doesn’t look at her brother, radiating all the cordiality he refuses to extend. She hands Izana a wine-glass, grip so careful her fingers don’t brush his. He refuses to wish she were any less well-trained, any more sloppy.

“He’s seeing to affairs in my absence. If he’s to be someone I can count on, there are still things he needs to learn.”

“That is one thing we may agree on, then: brothers always have something to learn.” Izana loves the way Haki’s eyes tilt when she teases, the way she can spin words to her purposes with such skill. He’s worked hard for what he has and it serves him well; Haki is a natural.

The doors open for dinner, then, and he offers his arm. Her grip is no more than a brush of fingers, but it’s good. She didn’t hesitate, and that gives him hope. He chooses to believe it’s not just that she’s hungry. And dinner passes with no further personal discussions, but reports of training regimens and research breakthroughs. Always something new, with Lyrias.

[sabraeal]

What the Heart Wants, Chapter 2

What the Heart Wants, Chapter 1

ANS Week, Day 2: Rain Dark | Impactful | Nourishing | Fresh

Wilant will always be a pleasant diversion, a breath of fresh air when court life gets too stale --

But Zen breathes easier in Wistal.

Shirayuki may be happy in her scarves and stockings three layers thick, her bed stacked high with flannel blankets and down-stuffed quilts, but for Zen -- for Zen, home will always be the warm sun on his skin and the scent of honeysuckle and wisteria wafting through open windows. It is the cobbled streets of the city and the marbled halls of the castle, the calm, starry nights, and the strawberries so fresh they’re still sour from the vine.

Izana clearly feels the same; the moment they ride past the check point, his shoulders ease, his seat more natural on his steed. When he walks Wistal’s halls, still dirt-splattered from the road, there’s a spring in his step, a surety in his gait that is too marked to be purposeful.

He is a king, and this is the seat of his power. Even as a prince, Zen feels it too; that subtle shift in the air that infuses him with the confidence of his station. Obi’s reminded him all too many times -- on the road or in an inn, he is anonymous, a man like any other traveler, and a knife kills a prince just as easily as a swineherd. But here, here --

Here he is Zen Wisteria, Second Prince of Clarines. It chafes as much as it comforts.

Do not take too much heart in the thought, Izana had drawled at the observation, enjoying his disguise as Lowen, court pharmacist, far too much. Father died at home as well.

As if he could forget.

Mother comes with them to Wistal.

He’s not sure of the specifics behind the decision -- he was only privy to what he assumes was Izana’s last-ditch effort; a quiet lunch where Mother acquiesced without much struggle or fanfare. The only protest she gave was the token, tired sigh of, but I am not sure why I must needs convalesce in the city.

“It would set our minds at ease, Mother,” Izana tells her, but Zen recognizes the tone, recognizes the smile lurking at corner of his mouth.

It’s a good opportunity for her, he had said, years ago now, as the books in his office pressed in around them. A place for her to hone her skills, to make connections.

He had, of course, not said what he meant: A place where she will not be near you.

Zen is older now, more experienced in the subtle manipulations that oil the gears of this court – he hears what isn’t said:

It would set our minds at ease to know you aren’t near that man.

It’s him that Mother turns to when she has run out of her arguments, gaze patient and inquisitive, as if asking him to make the decision for her. As if asking whether he will allow her to be taken, as Shirayuki was from him. As if asking if he will let this trap spring for her as well.

The smile he wears doesn’t fit his mouth as he says, “You should come.”

She blinks once, almost as if taken aback, before her expression is once again inscrutably polite.

“Should I?” she murmurs faintly, lifting a delicate cup to her lips.

“Of course,” he presses. “Wistal is so nice in the summer.”

Her knuckles are white when she sets down her tea. “I suppose it would be nice. I have so missed the gardens…”

Mother’s garden sits in the South Wing, walled on two sides to keep it private from the larger, public gardens on the other side. If he’d stood on one of the delicate wicker traps mother called chairs, he’d be able to see the roofs of the pharmacy, maybe even the window shyly tucked back from the main thoroughfare that had marked Shirayuki’s office when she was in Wistal.

He hadn’t tried, of course – these things were barely safe to sit on, more for decoration than habitual use, no matter what Mother tried to convince him of – but just the knowledge of it warms him, makes him feel closer to her even when she’s miles away, in a city only now starting to melt at summer’s height.

It almost makes these teas worthwhile.

A breeze gently rustles through the garden, shaking the wisteria overhead, and Mother tilts her head back, letting it cover her sigh. Zen’s too used to her habits, too used to these useless teas, and he sees it for what it is, for what the deep set of the lines on her face mean. 

How strange it is, to see someone suffer in paradise. 

“Are you feeling better?” he asks, as he always does – it is the one thing Izana will ask after, catching him on the hall to some appointment or another, is Mother feeling recovered? Her answer is always the same.

“I feel quite well,” she tells him in her mild way, fond smile curling her lips. “As I have since I was rescued. I promise, I am not covering for any foul treatment done by our kidnappers.”

He hums, feigning agreement. “You know how Izana is. He wants to make sure you’re safe.”

“I am safe as I am anywhere.” She takes a sip of tea, eyebrows raised. “Surely you do not think I am some stranger to abduction? Why weren’t we both --”

“I don’t remember,” he lies, heat creeping up his neck. He doesn’t need to be reminded of the time they nearly both were carted off to Sama when he was hardly old enough to hold a knife. Gods know, Izana remembers it enough for the both of them. “I was very young. But I’ll take your word for it, Mother.”

“I understand Izana’s caution,” she says after a moment. “But I’m afraid I still do not understand why he feels I should be kept at Wistal. After all, my allergy…” She gives a theatric sneeze.

Zen’s mouth pulls flat. He knows – it is the same reason Izana has kept him here, all these years. They have a chronic habit of loving inappropriately; a condition his brother thinks can only be cured through quarantine and distraction.

For once, Zen hopes he is right.

“Well,” he starts, dropping his serviette as he stands. “Tea was lovely, as always, but –“

“You must get back to business.” She smiles, too knowing. “A man cannot run a country by himself.”

No, but he can certainly send his brother to distract their mother alone just fine.

Annoyance spikes in him. It was Izana’s grand idea to bring her here, but now it is solely Zen’s duty to entertain her, to keep her mind occupied on top of all his other duties. As if he has no other, more pressing work than to make sure their mother --

That their mother was not spending her days, forlornly gazing north, as she was right now. He sighs, fingers tapping at the table.

“I’m sure another letter from Shirayuki will arrive soon,” he offers, desperate. “It’s been a few weeks.”

Mother smiles, faint. “That would be nice.”

“You seem to be getting along well,” he adds. He had never thought about his -- his someone having a significant relationship with his mother, not when he barely had more than a fondly cordial one himself, but it was...nice. Izana’s doubts had made his own blossom, but his mother’s approval...

Well, it was nice not to be alone in this, for once.

“She’s a lovely girl,” his mother agrees. “She’s giving me some wonderful advice about how to fix up this garden of mine.”

He glances around, unable to find any obvious change, but nods. “I’m...glad. I’ve always found her to be...”

“Special?” his mother offers, when he cannot find the word. “I agree. I like her quite a lot, and it would be...” Mother hesitates, as if trying on the words, to see if they might fit. “...most pleasing to me, if we were to grow close.”

For once, the knot in his chest eases. “That would please me too.”

She hums, a smile lingering about her lips. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“Oh!” He coughs, trying to cover his flush. “Right. Yes. I -- I will see you soon.”

“Tea tomorrow,” she reminds him.

“Right, yes.” He nods. “Tea tomorrow.”

He reaches for the door to the castle, only to have it jump from his hands. He looks up startled, and meets wide amber and slit pupils.

“Obi?” It’s not fair to meet him this way, when he’s at the bottom at the stairs and Obi’s at the top. He’s tall enough as it is.

“Master!” Shock melts to a sly smirk, mouth rucked at one corner. “What a pleasant surprise!”

“I’m the surprise?” he shrills. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Lyrias?”

His eyes dart to one corner, the picture of innocence. “His Lordship had reports he needed delivered to Sir Zakura, and he said I was his fastest messenger.”

There’s a boast in that, but there’s no refuting that Obi moves faster than a man should be able to on the roads. It’s best not to think about; things like that can keep a man up at night. “That doesn’t explain why you’re here. At my mother’s private garden.”

“Ah!” Obi lifts a hand, rubbing at the back of his head. “Yes, well…Miss sent me with a letter too. Said I should deliver it personally.” He smiles, sheepish. “You know how she is.”

Zen nods. “Good, I think my mother could use the good news today. She’s been a little listless since the last.”

Obi’s mouth quirks at the corner. “Oh, I’m sure this will put her in a chipper mood.” He winks. “Don’t you worry.”

Mother doesn’t call him for tea the next day. It worries him for a while – she had been so out of sorts, after all – but Obi distracts him before he heads back north, taking him out for street food in the city and drinks and not returning him until the night shift has already started. By the time he receives the invitation the next day, Zen’s feeling steady enough on his feet to chance it. Besides, tea has always settled his stomach.

At least, that’s what he thinks, up until he sees his brother lounging at the table, long legs spread out across the brick like a brag.

Zen stomps across the garden, dropping himself down into the chair next to him. “What are you doing here?”

Izana holds out a hand, as if encompassing the garden without moving a finger. “Mother invited me.”

“Mother always invites you,” he grouses, “you just never come.”

“Well,” Izana hums, “today she especially requested my presence. So I have come.”

Zen takes in a breath, but when he goes to speak –

“Good,” Mother calls out, tremulous smile on her lips. “You are both here.”

“Of course,” Izana says smoothly, smile just curling his lips, “I come when you call, Mother.”

Zen stares. Honestly.

Mother smiles knowingly. “How kind of you.”

Izana’s eyes narrow. “Is something --?”

“I only wished to let you know,” Mother pushes out, as if every word was an effort. “That I will be marrying Mukaze.”

“You can’t just let this happen,” Zen blurts out when Mother has left. “You can’t just let her --”

“Perhaps you did not notice, darling brother,” Izana drawls, staring at his nails. “But Mother did not ask.”

“But you’re the king, you can just --” be high-handed, like always –

“I could.” He drums his fingers against the glass, parum-pum-pum-pum, the only part of himself he allows to move. “But I think you will find that will not stop her. We would only find a cold bed and a rope of bedsheets out the window.”

“She’s on the first floor,” Zen offers mildly.

“Then maybe she would leave a note,” Izana allows. “The point is, I may be the king, but she was once queen, and there’s hardly a court between here and Viande that would not give her sanctuary.”

“But Mukaze is a fugitive in Tanbarun!” he presses, hoping his brother has forgotten just how he came by that knowledge. “And an exiled nobleman to boot. Surely King Shenezard –“

“I am aware of just what King Shenezard will think about that,” Izana cuts in. “This is not about stopping Mother. We can’t. It is about mitigating the damage.”

“You can’t just --”

Izana holds up a hand. “There is nothing I cannot do brother. And if making this disaster of a marriage into something feasible is what Mother wants, then it is what will be done.” He hesitates, and says, softer, “It’s what she deserves.”

Zen frowns. “I don’t understand.”

Izana stands, a wistful smile at the corner of his lips. “Good. Then I have done one thing right.”

Despite how he argues, not a single ear will listen to reason. Not his brother, not his mother, and – most surprisingly – not Haruka, who merely waves him away and asks him if he does not have something better to do with his time. Zen can’t countenance it; for years he’s been all but forbidden from making Shirayuki his wife, told that she needs to prove herself –

And now his mother is going to marry her father. The mountain vigilante.

Time marches onward, and in all too short a measure, Zen find himself waiting at the Starlight Gate to received their illustrious guests. They have come from all over – dignitaries from Viande, from Ivora, from Sama, even Ambassador Prak, who offers his mother the most heartfelt of congratulations from Her Most High herself. It’s not until the last day that the visitors from Lyrias arrive, a great party that is a dozen carriages at least, full of half the most powerful players in the North, all come to see their queen remarried.

It is no surprise that Haki alights from one of the first carriages, Makiri’s arm looped in hers. Mother greets her warmly, a kiss on both her cheeks.

“You look well,” Mother gushes. With a sideways look, she adds, “Doesn’t she, Izana?”

His brother looks fit to choke, but he covers it well, his expression warm as Mother passes his fiancée to him. “Of course. You look radiant as always, Mistress Haki.”

He lifts her hand to kiss it, earning him a warm look in return. “His Majesty is too kind.”

“Perhaps,” Mother wonders aloud, as Haki is passed on to Zen, “we might look forward to a double wedding this week.”

Haki’s pale face flushes vibrant red, and Izana looks much the same. “Mother –“

“I am merely speculating,” she says easily, turning to the next guest. “After all, you don’t seem to know how to end an engagement –“

“Mother!”

“Oh look,” she gushes, turning her back to them. “It’s Duke Rodatrad.”

Mukaze comes not in a carriage, but on horseback, flanked by the whole of the Mountain Lions. They are, at least, well-dressed; still, Izana looks nearly faint at the prospect of his mother’s husband’s impropriety.

He sweeps off his horse, up the steps until he can hold Mother close to him, no air between them, and –

“Yuck,” Kazuki groans, echoing the sentiment of both royal sons. “Yuck.”

Itoya reaches over, cuffing the back of his head. “Be respectful.”

Kazuki frowns, but relents with a much quieter, “Gross.”

It is of course the carriage he is waiting for most that is last. Shirayuki sways down the steps, smile bright, if tremulous, and accepts the embrace his mother offers. Obi stays a respectful distance back; he’s not a guest, per se, but a guard.

Zen wants to rush to greet her, to hold her as close as his mother does, but –

“Dear sister,” Izana drawls, pulling her into his arms. “I’m so pleased that our families are finally joining.”

“T-thank you…brother,” she murmurs awkwardly as she steps out of his embrace. “I’m…glad for it, as well.”

It is midnight when someone rouses him, one of Izana’s personal staff that urges him to don appropriate attire and meet at the Poet’s Gate. Zen knows better than to balk, though he does grumble as he fumbles with his pants, nearly knocking over the lamp on his beside table.

He makes it just in time to stand alone on the portico as the carriage arrives, unmarked and pitch black, blending in with the night. It’s an effect rendered wholly unnecessary the moment its occupant opens his mouth.

“There now, Sakaki,” Raj crows, far too loud, as he spies Zen’s shocked face. “Did I not tell you we would be the best surprise of all?”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“It would be better,” Izana drawls, unfurling from the shadows, “if you were the best secret as well.”

Against all odds, Raj pinks in the moonlight. “O-of course! No one is as circumspect as me! Isn’t that right, Sakaki?”

Izana’s disapproval is so weighty, not even the prince’s manservant dares break it.

“Come then,” he says finally. “Let us go to my office and settle this.”

“There is of course, one formality that must be take care of before the…festivities may begin,” Izana says, fixing his gaze on Mukaze, who bears it as well as any man could. “You may have been a vigilante for the past two decades, but you were a lord’s heir once. Certainly you are not insensible to what must be done.”

Mukaze eyes him. “I certainly have a few ideas about what you may be asking.”

“Your claims in Tanbarun,” Raj interjects nervously. “You must relinquish them.”

His eyes narrow. “I was already disinherited. I don’t see what I have to --”

“Both of you,” Izana says calmly, his gaze sliding to where Shirayuki sits beside her father. She stares at him, wide-eyed, and oh, how Zen wants to go to her, wants to tell her –

“It’s up to you, kid.” Mukaze looks down at her, eyes soft in a hard face. “I’m not getting that title. But you could. It’s your future.”

He doesn’t hear it, but he sees her lips move as she lays her hand on his arm. Dad.

“I don’t want it,” she says, so soft. Her fingers grip tighter. “I don’t know that life. It’s not mine. This is.”

“Kid --”

“Be happy, Dad.” His hand lays over hers. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I will,” he promises, watery. “What do we need to do?”

Raj snaps, and Sakaki lays out an official-looking document on the desk.

“Sign this,” the prince says. “It relinquishes your claim and the claim of both your issue.”

Shirayuki frowns. “Issue?”

“Children,” Raj manages, awkwardly. “And grandchildren. And so forth.”

She hesitates then, but –

“It’s all right, kid,” Mukaze says. “You don’t have to –“

Her name scrawls across the page, aggressive and bold. “Done. There isn’t anything to miss.”

Mukaze reaches out to her, her hand clasped in his. “Shirayuki –“

“And now that that business is done,” Izana begins, stepping around the desk, paper in his hands. “It is my duty to give you this.”

Mukaze takes the scroll in his hand, breaking the seal. His brows furrow as he reads its contents. “What is this?”

“Think of it as a wedding gift,” his brother says, smile lurking at the edge of his lips.

Mukaze stares, as if the words no longer make sense. “Is this…?”

“The rights to land along the Tanbarun border, as well as the parcels contained therein.” Izana shrugs. “The incomes are nothing to be too excited about, but I doubt you are over-concerned with that, Earl Orundel.”

“Earl,” Mukaze breathes. “You want to make me an earl.”

“No, you are an earl.” Izana’s mouth twitches into a smirk. “I know, it is a demotion after margrave, but –“

“What do you want?” Mukaze demands. “This can’t – you can’t –“

“Mukaze.” Izana lays a hand on his shoulder. “My mother cannot marry a common man.”

“He never was,” Mother murmurs, catching Mukaze’s hand in hers. “He has always been more.”

“Of course.” Izana’s face grows soft, looking at them. “But this is not about the content of his character, but politics. You know you must accept this.”

He scrubs a hand down his face. “I know. I know.” He takes in a deep breath. “Fine. Earl it is.”

It’s a bad idea, he knows, but – Obi catches his elbow in the hall, and winks, says, come on, Master, you need a drink –

And then he’s stumbling through the garden, alcohol buzzing through his veins, making his thoughts too loud, drowning out the words that Mitsuhide says, Kiki’s sharp answer –

“Oh well, you know His Majesty is happy,” Obi’s voice cuts through the noise. “You should have heard him when he first saw. I’ve always wanted a sister.”

It’s not thoughts that buzz through him but anger – this isn’t fair, it’s not, not when he’s waited so long, been so patient –

His gaze swings up, sees lights on, and –

And he’s tired of being so dutiful.

“Zen.” His brother only manages to summon mild surprise. “You’re here. And…intoxicated.”

“I’m not,” he snaps, the slam of the door punctuating his sentence. “Intoxicated, I mean. I’m here.”

“Clearly,” Izana drawls, eyebrows raised. “Though to what purpose –“

“You know what purpose,” Zen spits, the anger nearly choking him. “You told me – you said for years – that you couldn’t just – just – hand respectability to Shirayuki, that she had to prove herself. And then to her father, you hand a county!”

“And all its constituent titles and parcels, yes.” He settles back, far too comfortable. “Is there a point you wish to come to?”

“You didn’t want me to marry Shirayuki!”

He expects the accusation to slap, to make his brother recoil in confrontation, but –

“I never made a secret of that, brother.” Izana stares at him like he is the one being confusing. “She had no title, and no contacts. When she arrived here, she had no known skills, and was fleeing her own country for defying its prince. And you wanted me to make her a princess.”

“Shirayuki is a good person –“

“Of course she is,” Izana agrees, derisive. “But you could not have known that, not truly, in less than a month. And all the good intentions in the world would not give her what was needed to become a contender for your wife.” He looks at him. “It is not our lot in life to marry for love, but for Clarines.”

“She would be good for Clarines --”

“Perhaps.” He doesn’t sound convinced. “But would Clarinese have been good for her?”

The question catches him off-guard – he’d never thought of that, of what it would mean for Shirayuki to be his wife –

But that wasn’t the point.

“And Mukaze is good for Clarines?” He huffs, barely able to breathe through his rage. “And now that she is his heir, that she’ll one day be --”

“If you were paying attention, she is Viscountess in her own right.” Izana eyes him, disappointed. “But are you asking if now she would make for a good match? A viscountess would be too low, even for a prince, but an eventual countess – yes. I would have considered it.”

“Then --”

“But brother cannot marry sister,” Izana remind him. “Lest you have forgotten our laws.”

“We aren’t --”

“In every way that will matter, you are.” He sounds almost…sad. “Even if I wanted to, I could not give my blessing now.”

“All these years, and you just – just hand a title to her father, to what? Play with me?”

“Play with you?” Izana stands, looming over him. “Do not dare put this on me, brother. You could have married her at any time, had you done what mother did.”

Zen laughs, not kindly. “Just tell you it was happening? I would have love to have seen --”

“No.” Izana’s face is cloudy. “Been willing to risk your title on your herbalist girl. But you never dared.”

There is nothing he can say to that.

“I had always wondered if you would,” Izana admits, sitting down. “But in the end, it doesn’t matter. You cannot, not now.”

Anger has burnt the alcohol from his veins when he reaches the gardens outside the west wing, The windows are dark in the rooms – Mitsuhide and Kiki might be sleeping, but Obi is still out prowling, he assumes. Shirayuki turned in early, just after dinner.

He finds a rock, large enough to fly true and small enough to not leave evidence. He throws it, wishing there was some wind to pick up his cloak dashingly in the moonlight when it raps against her window.

It takes eight for her to actually come.

“Zen?” she murmurs, sleepy eyes opening wide. “What are you doing here?”

“Come down,” he says beseechingly. “I wanted to see you. To talk.”

She hesitates, then nods.

It’s been months since he’s seen her, and he feels every one of them in silence that settles between them. She keeps pace beside him as easy as ever, but still - still --

“This is weird, isn’t it?” he says.

She nods eagerly. “Oh, good, I was – I thought it was me.”

“No, it’s this – the marriage,” Zen says. “I almost feel like I don’t know how to act.” How I’m supposed to act.

“Me too.” A smile breaks wide across her face. “But they’re so happy. And I’m – I’m happy for them, whatever else it means --”

“Shirayuki.” He grabs her hand, pulling her back. “This is our only chance.”

“What?”

Her breath brushes against his lips, and that’s all he needs to bend down, to press his lips her hers. She surges up into him, hands clutching at his tunic, and he pulls away.

“Run away with me,” he gasps. “Tonight, before they can stop us.”

“I don’t --”

“Marry me.”

She stands frozen in front of him, stunned. Her mouth opens –

It is his brother’s voice that comes out. “What are you doing?”

[answeek]

Day 1 - Sunshine

Fanart

Happy Family Study Night Turned Sleepover by @onedivinemisfit​ Sunshine Shirayuki by @purpledragonsart​

Fanfic

At the Break of Dawn, Chapter 3 by @akai-vampire​ The Courtship of Izana Wisteria by @claudeng80​ My Sunshine by @fafi-shal​ Sunshine by @akagami-no-rae​ Sunshine by @squidpro-quo​

[akaivampire]

At The Break of Dawn, Chapter 3

“Fortunately, it’s nothing serious,” Shirayuki says as she wraps a clean bandage around Kiki’s wrist. “Just go easy on it for the next few days and it should heal perfectly.”

“I’ll make sure to remember that,” Kiki says, eyes following the spiral movement of the bandage. “You didn’t get hurt, with the horse, did you, Shirayuki?”

“Not a scratch. I hope they weren’t frightened, though. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Kiki says, rolling her sleeve over the bandage. “Even if they were, Mitsuhide probably calmed them down.”

“That’s good.”

Kiki doesn’t move but lets her eyes drift over the pharmacy and to where Ryuu is working. “You finally found someone you get along with, Ryuu. The pharmacy is no longer a mess.” Kiki sighs when he only nods and looks away. “What took you so long?” she aims the question at Shirayuki.

“Didn’t think I belong in a castle. I Still don’t.”

“I’d say you fit quite well.” Kiki heads for the doors, adjusting the sword at her hip. “Pharmacist Shirayuki.”

“Thank you. See you soon- well, no, yes! I mean, I don’t mean I want you to get injured, I-”

You had to mess up a perfectly good conversation. WHY!?

“I mean I don’t want to treat your injuries to see you. No, I will treat you if you’re hurt or sick, but I don’t mean… I’m sorry,” she draws out with a sigh.

“Don’t get too worked up over it,” she chuckles. “I come here often, either way, it’s part of the job. Although,” She slides the door open and steps out. “I do hope our next visit doesn’t involve either of us being hurt.”

Read More on AO3

[purpledragon57]

ANS Week Day Four - Storm

[akagami-no-rae]

ANS Week Day 2 - Rain

[purpledragonsart]

ANS Week Day Two - Rain

[squidpro-quo]

Storm

AN: Because a pirate!au is always a necessity. And I like capes. 

Shirayuki clutched at the railing of the schooner, fighting to stay on her feet as the waves lashed at the hull with a thunder that shook her to her bones. The storm had snuck up on them, or at least had overtaken their escape and now proceeded to make the best of the opportunity to sink them right in sight of the coast. 

“Ma’am! Please get belowdecks! The commander is worried for your safety, he can’t be responsible for you if you’re in the men’s way!” The swab shivered in his ragged sailor’s uniform, soaked to the skin while he tried to pull her away back towards the hatch and its dry cabin. 

She was loathe to see the plush cage that the cabin really was—just another gilded box to transport a treasure in—when this voyage was her last chance to truly live without any shackles on her freedom, but she didn’t have time to do any more than shake her head before the cry came from the crow’s nest above. 

“Pirates! Off the starboard bow! The Maelstrom has come!”

If the soldiers had been frantic before, it was nothing compared to now. Shirayuki clambered to the front until she was underneath the flapping jib and watched the fast approaching ship through the howling wind and the storming sea. If this was to be the end of it all, maybe she’d have a chance at swimming to shore or die trying. At the very least, she doubted the jewels and gold weighing the ship down would make it to the illustrious, and demanding, high prince. 

The pirate ship was bigger than the Royal Decree by a good few meters, and noticeably faster too. Within the bare five minutes since it had been sighted, it had neared to little over a mile away as it squeezed the schooner against the cliffs in its attempt to flee. She’d expected a pirate ship to be black, and mostly ragged, but this one appeared to be a tinted silver, though that might have been the veil of the storm coloring the ship darker than it really was. Its prow boasted a figurehead in the shape of a bird she could have sworn was a peacock, with long flowing tail blending into the wood of the ship until it seemed the entire hull was carved from its feathers. 

By now, it was close enough that she could see the pirates aboard it, most gathered at the side while two were climbing the ropes leading up to the top of the sail, their short capes fluttering in the wind like twin flags of black and white. 

“Ready cannons! Fire!” The commander’s order was heard throughout the schooner, a harsh discordance against the harmony of the storm. Shirayuki looked across at the pirate ship, torn between wonder at its sight and fear at who would come out the victor of their clash. Either way the tides of this battle turned, she would come out the loser, dragged to either the sea floor or to the court to be drowned in the confines of the kingdom's most stifling court. The cannons thundered in time to the storm’s thrashing and she watched as they tore through the sides of the Maelstrom, leaving splintering holes in its sides. 

The pirates endeavored to give as good as they got, their cannonfire sending shudders through the Royal Decree, accompanied by the whoops and hollers of those on the ropes. The two pirates up above let go, swinging onto the schooner’s deck to land amidships back-to-back like they were planning to take on the entire platoon’s worth of sailors and soldiers alike. 

Creeping closer until she could watch from behind the foremast, the scene that confronted her wasn’t what she’d been expecting. Like two mirror images, they stood so close together their shoulders brushed and their feet touched at the heels, each facing their respective side of a half-dozen armed sailors with a wild glint in their eyes.

“Surrender your jewels and we’ll let you live!” the one on the left shouted, hair so drenched it was like an inkstain, though that did nothing to dim the bright amber shine of his irises. He brandished his knives, small though they were when compared with the swords of the royal sailors, there were nevertheless many eyes following their gleaming path warily. 

“We’ll even help you to shore!” the other shouted, his white cape embroidered with swirls in the patterns of waves. His sabre was held in front of him, still sheathed, and his smile was so guileless and honest that Shirayuki almost forgot he was a pirate. 

“That would be stranding them, Zen.” Adjusting his grip on the daggers, the first one pointed up at the commander with a blade, taunting. “We wouldn’t do that for all the gold in the world.”

“Oh, we’d never go so far as to strand them,” Zen agreed, his gaze catching on Shirayuki’s as he surveyed the arrayed attackers. “That would be too cruel. We’ll just have to satisfy ourselves with robbing them, won’t we, Obi?”

Obi didn’t bother with a reply; he leaped forward to slash at his own semicircle of sailors right as the commander jumped from the aft deck by the shipwheel to enter the foray with his own bellow of anger. She’d seen him fight before, back at the fort they’d mercifully left behind, and she was under illusions as to who would win. 

“Do you mind?” Zen’s voice came from over her shoulder and she turned to find him wiping the rain from his face as he tugged her over to the railing without waiting for her answer. 

“What are you doing?” She looked back to the chaos of the fight. “He needs your help!” 

Zen followed her gaze, the cluster of gems dangling from his ear dripping onto his cape and he laughed. 

“He really doesn’t,” he said, pointing to where Obi whirled between the slashes of swords like the dark smoke from a fire, sinking first one and then another knife into the commander’s pristine uniform where it stretched over his bulging arms. “And besides, we’ve got what we came for.” 

“Me? The king won’t send a ransom for me. I’m merely to be one of his many concubines.”

“Well, not you specifically. I meant all these necklaces and bracelets you’re wearing. They’ve got to be awfully heavy.” Zen cut through the rope tied next to the railing and handed it to her. “Would you do me a favor and swing across? I can’t hope to carry those jewels myself and since you’re already here…”

“What if I don’t?” Shirayuki asked, even as she twisted the sodden line around her arm. 

“You’re welcome to stay. Though dare I say, a life of a pirate might be a bit more exciting than the life of a concubine.” 

She couldn’t exactly refute him there, but she still waited, looking back over her shoulder at the commander’s surprisingly difficult fight with his assailant. Obi held his own, largely by staying out of the commander’s reach, while the waves crashed over the edge and flooded the ship’s deck until they were wading more than they were attacking. 

“It was a pleasure doing business with you!” Zen called out as he hopped up onto the railing to grab a loose line of rigging, giving a short, sharp whistle. “Till next time!” 

Obi seemed to take that as his cue, spinning on his heel to splash across the sodden deck before grabbing Zen’s hand to jump, dragging them both out into the gap between the ships. 

Shirayuki spared one last glance back at the staggering sailors and made her choice. The short swing across to the Maelstrom was all she needed to know she’d made the right one.