#dawg i can't do this for every prompt this rly got away from me

[heich0e]

hands and knees liv for knight osamu PLS

ask game: a christmas drabble from an established AU AU: the witch's song

osamu slumps down in his seat, a chill stuck so deep in the marrow of his bones he doubts that even the fire burning on the hearth across the room has any hope of easing it. he sniffles, running his hand over his bicep in hopes of speeding up the process of thawing himself out.

"it's FREEZIN' out there," atsumu, his brother, laments loudly in the seat across from him. his nose and ears are pink in a way osamu can only assume his own features mirror—they're twins, after all—and his hair is matted down to his forehead since the snowflakes previously resting in the strands have melted into nothing. atsumu's complaints persist, even as he scrubs at his running nose. "can't believe we're stuck in this shithole overnight."

"s'not so bad," osamu replies, even if he is half-frozen in his seat. "be grateful we managed to get ourselves a room, wouldja?"

not even his brother can argue with that—though he is so very good at it. the inn they'd found in this little village so far from the palace is full to bursting, the tavern around them bustling with activity from the guests and townspeople alike—if not for the knights' crest embroidered on their cloaks when they stumbled in from the blizzard outside, it's unlikely they'd have been offered lodging at all.

"how far are we from home?" atsumu asks instead of refuting his brother's point, picking up his tankard and taking a long swig of his ale.

"about a day's ride in good weather, a week's in whatever you call this," suna remarks dryly from his seat at the round table between the two twins, not bothering to look up from map in his hands. "even if the storm clears overnight, the path back will be treacherous with the snow. it'll take us two days at least to get through."

"two days?" atsumu whines. "yer kiddin'!"

suna looks at him with an expression that clearly conveys that he's doing nothing of the sort.

atsumu grumbles something under his breath, tipping his tankard back again to drain it.

"hope gin's doing alright in the storm," suna remarks, glancing out the tavern's cross-hatched windows into the stormy night.

gin had been sent ahead of the rest of them to report the knights' delay to the king. he was the best rider among them, and grew up in the northern corner of the kingdom where storms like this one were common, so of the four he was the best suited for the task. osamu wasn't so worried about him, even with the snow falling so heavily.

a man passes by the knights' table, rattling it a little. osamu shoots the ruddy cheeked man a warning glance, but the glazed-eyed look that meets him tells him that the guy's too drunk to heed any kind of warning. he stumbles away without so much as an apology, joining another rowdy group of men across the crowded room.

"you'd swear they'd never had a witch hunt around here, the way they're carryin' on."

osamu looks over at his brother, who'd been similarly surveying the room. half the town seemed to be packed into the inn's tavern, and all the boarding guests along with them.

"it's been over a decade since a witch was found in this county," suna remarks. "you know these kinds of things always draw a crowd."

"not like we even caught one," atsumu snorts wryly. "doubt there was even one here to begin with."

he's not wrong. neither of them are. the knights had been dispatched to investigate the rumours circulating in a little village half a day's ride away from where they presently find themselves about the appearance of a witch, but in the days they'd spent investigating they'd found little tangible evidence to prove it.

there's no such things as witches in this kingdom.

not anymore, at least.

but still, the king had to do his due diligence—sending a group of his men to dig into the whispers that had made their way back to the court. the storm had been the only unexpected part of their trip.

"hey sunarin, go get us another round," atsumu says, setting his empty tankard back down against the tabletop.

"fat chance," suna replies. "get your own."

"i'm still too cold to move," atsumu protests. he turns his attention to his brother, trying his luck there. "samu?"

osamu shakes his head. "tough."

"but you need a refill too!"

osamu glances down at the table towards his own beer—at least, the place where his beer ought to be—only to find the tankard missing. on the other side of the table, his brother sits with two empty tankards in front of him and a smug smile on his lips.

"you gluttonous little bast—!"

across the room, a sudden commotion catches all three knights' attention. a fight, possibly. maybe an accident. whatever it is, it sends all three men over to investigate, pushing their way through the crowd.

a man is sprawled on the ground unconscious when they manage to break through the fray, a mounted buck's head—or a previously mounted one—just beside him.

"what happened?" atsumu asks, surveying the scene—all of his childish petulance gone now as he assumes his duty.

"the twelve-point just fell off the wall outta nowhere! knocked the sucker out cold!" the barman who had clearly witnessed the ordeal explains, a bit incredulous. "that things been up there for half a century, must've come loose or something."

"serves the guy right considerin' how he was pawing at that poor girl," the young barback adds.

"girl?" suna asks.

"she was sittin' at the counter just a minute ago," the barback explains, looking around curiously. "the old drunk's been making passes at her all night."

"is she a guest?"

"she was," the barman explains. "checked out just now."

"checked out?" osamu asks incredulously. "she went out in this weather?"

the barman shrugs. "didn't ask."

osamu's head whips around as suna and atsumu continue trying to control the crowd, and get the unconscious man seen to.

across the room, osamu sees a figure slipping out into the night—the winter wind rushing in as they pull the door open. the hood of their cloak blows back, and reveals just the profile of their face.

a woman.

osamu freezes in place, watching as you turn and cast one last glance around the room. if you see him watching you, your eyes don't linger, and before he knows it you've slipped out into the night, the edges of your deep blue cloak trailing behind like curling tendrils of smoke.

he's following you out into the storm before he even has the chance to think.

it's quiet outside once the door slams closed behind him; a stark but welcome difference to the activity that rages on inside the inn.

it hasn't been long since osamu was last out, but somehow everything about the village seems stiller now around him. more peaceful. it's welcome, he thinks, even as the falling snowflakes land against his skin and melt into the warmth of his flushed cheeks.

he looks around for any sign of you. for any glimpse of that figure he'd come chasing after, but there's nothing.

not even a set of footprints in the fresh snow.