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realtacuardach · 4 years ago

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Anger and Release

Here's my entry for Match 2 of Obiyuki Madness 2021 @snowwhite-andtheknight : Roaring Rampage of Rescue. Many thanks to @jhalya for her beta reading. I hope y'all enjoy!

...

Steam curled out from Shirayuki's mouth as she peered through the frigid dimness of the morning towards the fortress. In her current frame of mind, she could almost imagine that the steam was actually smoke pouring from the maw of an enraged dragon who had had treasure stolen from her.

She didn't like being angry. Anger clouded the mind, affected the senses, and she liked to be in control and sensible at all times, especially in times where a cool head was needed.

On the other hand, though, the anger that was not at all going away was fuelling the adrenaline coursing through her blood, and she would need that adrenaline for what she was about to do.

So, she let herself be angry.

Angry at the renegade soldiers for capturing her and Obi in the middle of the night without provocation. Angry at how they savagely beat Obi after they'd already mobbed him and restrained him when he tried to rescue her. Angry at how they had been thrown into the back of the wagon like sacks of potatoes, the pain of his fresh, brutal wounds showing through his bruised eyes and stabbing her in the heart. Angry at how he managed to undo only his hands before removing her bonds instead of untying himself totally. Angry that, instead of saving himself, he'd given her an apologetic look before pushing her out of the cart and then collapsing himself.

The apology frustrated her almost more than anything else, because she was certain he was not apologetic for the right reasons.

"When we get back," she muttered to herself in the lessening gloom, "we're going to have a long talk about not sacrificing yourself for me. Again."

Truthfully, she didn't have much faith that this talk would stick any better than any of their previous similar ones, but that wouldn't prevent her from trying.

You idiot, she choked back a sob, don't you know how much it hurts when you do this?

She forced the tears away. There would be time for tears later, when he was home and safe and so bound up by her healing that he would have to stop and listen to her.

And he'll smile up at me and shrug and say he couldn't make any promises...

She shook her head. Focus.

Squinting, Shirayuki looked around the fortress and saw only one sentinel standing guard at the entrance. That seemed a little lackluster as far as security went, but she wasn't complaining.

A murmur like Obi's echoed through her brain. Miss, you can never be too careful. The ground's not the only place the enemy can be.

As though on cue, she heard a slight crackling of tinder above her as though a squirrel was making its way through the limbs. She craned her head upwards to see a man in the tree besides the one where she was hiding, well camouflaged against the gnarled bark.

That wouldn't do.

Looking around surreptitiously, Shirayuki saw a jagged stone on the ground. She reached out and took it, its roughness grounding her and steeling her resolve. After a quick glance towards the sentinel at the door, Shirayuki crept a few trees away from her hiding place and looked up towards her target.

Practice with both Kiki and Obi had served her well; the rock slammed into the back of the tree dwelling soldier's knee as she'd planned, forcing his knee to bend and for him to lose his balance. He fell to the ground with a heavy thud amidst all the dead leaves.

Even in her haze of adrenaline, she could see his chest rise and fall, and felt a traitorous sense of relief.

The sentinel ran over to check his fallen comrade, his face showing first alarm, then irritation. He nudged the fallen man none too gently in the ribs and cursed. Shirayuki reached into her satchel, the glass jar solid in her hand.

"Fool," the guard grumbled, "falling asleep in a -"

The glass jar cracked across the back of his head, the potent herbs smearing across his skin and hair ensuring that the blow would knock him out. There were a few beads of blood where the glass scratched him, but she recognized him as one of Obi's attackers and couldn't bring herself to care much.

She stalked across the grass quietly and quickly, her ears attuned for any small sound, but heard and saw no one as she made her way to the door. Despite herself, her hand trembled a moment as she grabbed the door handle but she swallowed it down. She couldn't hesitate.

Obi needed her.

…

Years of having to deaden old soldier's wounds and to temporarily incapacitate stubborn, hardy patients who would not listen to her and stay in bed were serving her well. It meant that she knew just the right herbs to use, even if she had to grab them on the fly from the surrounding forest and unattended cupboards. It also meant she knew just where to dig and press her fingers to weaken muscles and render others unconscious.

She moved through the halls with almost clinical efficiency. Guard in west wing, herbs. Guard in east wing, pinch at the neck. Guard on the staircase, jar of herbs to the back of the head.

For once, she was grateful for her small size, it allowed her to creep and duck around the shadows. Because she had to take everyone out on the way to Obi, otherwise she knew their chances of escape were slim.

Especially with Obi as injured as he is.

Shirayuki gritted her teeth, forcing her feelings to fuel her rage. This was not the time to falter.

It was best to be quiet, the element of surprise was key. But she noted with alarm that her attacks were getting more reckless the deeper she went into the fortress, whether that was due to her desperation and anger, she didn't know.

She didn't care.

As she crept past the guard who had been watching the dungeon door, she heard voices and scowled.

A dull slap of something against flesh. "Where is the girl?"

A hollow chuckle. "What girl?"

Wind whistled as something was swung through the air, ending with a muffled thud and a deep groan. "You know what girl we're talking about!"

"Can't say I do," Obi groaned in response.

There was a sound that sounded sickeningly like a blade being drawn from a scabbard. "I won't ask again."

"Good, because I won't answer again." Obi clicked his tongue, the sound strangely garbled. "Not good at taking no for an answer, no wonder you can't get a girl-"

Don't provoke them, Obi!

Usually, if Obi was still being snarky and insolent, things were okay; it was only when he reverted to death glares that things were serious. However, that was when others, especially Shirayuku and Ryuu, were at stake. He was annoyingly flippant when it came to his well-being, so Shirayuki had no way of telling how bad it was without seeing him. She pushed up on her toes and stared through the bars.

Her blood ran cold, then hot, then boiling.

Her knight was shackled to the wall, looking even more bruised and battered then she had seen him before. Blood ran in a stream from the corner of his mouth, his limbs were contorted where they were shackled with blood plastering the material to his skin, and his glare was lessening to a slit of golden, blood-shot eyes as his face swelled from all the bruising.

And there was a blade held to his neck.

Rage filled Shirayuki like a beaker overflowing with viscous, corrosive liquid and she felt herself grabbing a rusty bar that had fallen in days past from the door. There were two people with him, the element of surprise would be almost useless here.

And it was overrated anyway.

She only made one sound before she dropped her cover entirely, just enough to surprise the brute holding the blade to Obi's neck and have him facing her.

With that, she cast aside all secrecy, let out an unholy shriek that she hadn't known herself capable of, and pounced.

…

"That," Obi huffed besides her as they struggled into the clearing, him leaning heavily on her shoulder, "was something, Miss."

Shirayuki gave something like a nod in response, but kept going. Her adrenaline was just about running out, and she could feel all the aches in her body starting to emerge. Just a little further.

"Miss?"

Along with the aches, the reality of what she had just done was beginning to sink into her thoughts as well. All those guards slumped unconscious, their wheezing both reassuring and terrifying. The bruises and scabs forming on the backs of heads and necks. The pained groans of Obi's tormentors as they faded into delirium, clutching most likely broken legs or arms. It looked terrible and daunting in her mind.

And she couldn't really bring herself to regret it.

"Miss, are you okay?"

It wasn't until she felt his fingers brush the dampness of her cheek that she realized she'd been crying. "I'll be fine."

"Miss."

He had no right to sound admonishing right now. None at all.

"Miss." He sounded gentler, although the admonishing tone still lingered in the back of his voice. "You're bleeding."

"Sure it's mine and not yours?" She shot back, and immediately regretted it at his wince.

"Miss, we're far enough. You need to rest a minute."

Acquiescing, Shirayuki maneuvered them to a small cave. She lay him down and sat beside him, hugging her knees to her chest, the fear and fatigue and anger and anxiety all curdling at once in her gut. She was doing a poor job of hiding it, given that Obi reached up to brush his fingers against her face again. "Miss, please…"

Something about the touch and tone undid her, and she began weeping. "Don't," she choked, "don't ever do that again."

Obi frowned. "You know I can't promise that."

"Why?" She demanded, "Why can't you? Don't you realize how much you matter? Don't you realize how much it would kill me if something happened to you?"

He swallowed hard. "Not as much as you-"

Shirayuki glared down at him. "Don't. Just, don't."

Obi sighed and forced himself into a seated position. With a slight noise of distaste at his bloodied clothes, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. She hugged him back fiercely and cried into his shoulder. He rubbed her back soothingly. "Thank you, Miss. I'm so sorry."

"Not as half as you'll be if you scare me like that again," she sniffled.

"Yes, Miss," she could feel his smile in the breath against her neck, warm and close and reassuringly alive.

She would need to talk with him more about this later, they were both well aware. But for now, they were both alive and safe.

And for now, that would have to be enough.

#obiyukimadness21 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #Roaring Rampage of Revenge #Spitfire!Shirayuki #Obi's self-sacrificial nature is still going strong #much to Shirayuki's frustration

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onedivinemisfit · 4 years ago

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Obiyuki lap sleepies lineart~

Inspired by the fic An Economy of Suffering, which at the time prompted me to doodle a couple of Obi comfort sketches. And as I await the Madness Semi Finals, I figured I’d spend time cleaning this one up.

I had a lot of fun imagining Obi’s bedroom in Lilias (since this clearly isn’t the palace’s west wing lolol) and just, this guy has so few items I had to be inventive with the little clutter I could add, like his necklaces, his knighthood diploma, a random succulent etc. And an art easter egg, if you can find it >:3

AnS (c) Akizuki Sorata

Art: Me

Free transparent png below

#akagami no shirayukihime #ans #snow white with the red hair #obiyuki #shirayuki #obi #myart #I really do like how it came out #like perspective isn’t too good but its first impression tricks the eye #well enough to hide that #phew lol #so many lines I had much fun and much frustration

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yumi-cha · 2 years ago

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I screamed in this chapter. Sorata really knows how to get her Fandom excited.

Me the entire chapter:

First order of things. My girl need some rest. Exhibit A:

Not me dying the first 3 minutes I run

Zen the entire time with his conv with Makiri: Explain yourself

Zen: You gave Ryuu that command from Wistal Castle, right? Did you get another one?

Makiri: … I may have.

STOP BEING SO SHADDY JUST ANSWER THE QUESTION.

Zen being frustrated cause Izana is behind everything which means he won't know anything until end lol.

Izana putting the bombs and leaving the aids to handle the aftermath of zen's rage. It hilarious.

And Obi's face screaming get me out of here.

Ladies and gentlemen I present to you the biggest reveal.....

ZEN HAS AN UNCLE. The job listing was done at HIS REQUEST! Zen and Shirayuki will both be meeting him.

The interesting part is that he goes by the name Shinsu Jiran(シンス·ジラン). WHY DOESN'T HE TAKE THE WISTALIA LAST NAME?! Perhaps Zenyuki isn't the only case where noble married a commoner?! Anyway, so much speculation there. He is more likely an uncle from KAIN SIDE (aka. Zen's father) but were not 100% sure.

What if...

Izana's whole speech about you can't have what your heart desires (Ch 10), was foreshowing this whole time to Kain's backstory. A noble/commoner marriage that happened in past and Izana trying to prevent the stigma from reoccurring (I may be overthinking and getting ahead of myself)

I AM READY FOR THE FAMILY TEA 🍵 (aka. The drama and angst) and the possible reveal of YOUNG KAIN.

And finally Zenyuki....

Both of them went silent, getting their thoughts in order. Then, they started speaking AT THE SAME TIME. Tjeir Couple telepathy is just 🤩🤩 🔥

Yes, I made a collage. I AM NOT OKAY.

When Shirayuki asks what type of person zen's uncle is, he says you will find out when you meet him.

This is really giving me vibes of daughter-in-law and father-in-law meeting before marriage. HELP.

Shirayuki: I wonder if I am leaving tommorow

Zen: Yeah. Let's do that

Shirayuki: Shall we?..

Zen: I coming too.

Shirayuki internally:

We can't forget the HAND TOCUH CHEEK. Initiated by SHIRAYUKI HERSELF

Hand touch I wonder where we seen that before....OH WAIT...

Flashback to Ch 25

Akhilian said it on ANS discord and I jUST HAD TO SHARE IT.

The potential of seeing another Zenyuki AND a backstory for KAIN (which by the way so many speculations on it that I thought will NEVER BE ADDRESSED). Bless you, Sorata.

Next chapter will be released on Oct. 24th

I am going to have fun typesetting this one.

#akagami no shirayuki #akagami no shirayukihime edit #akagami no shirayukime #zenyuki #zen x shirayuki #zen wistalia #zen wisteria #snow white with red hair #snow white with the red hair #manga edit #shirayuki #not me just leaving my 5 readings to do to write this #shoujo cap #赤髪の白雪姫 #akagami no shirayukihime

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kirayaykimura · 3 years ago

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In Every Lifetime

Things usually got hazy between life and death. One minute she was dying, the next Shirayuki was three years old and finally able to form permanent memories. Everything in between was a wash.

It was also around three years old that she remembered her past lives, which made her a really weird kid to be around.

Right now, though, she wasn’t three. She was still eighty-five, and felt like she’d just passed away in her bed in this lifetime’s home minutes ago.

“You did.”

She sat up with a small, startled intake of breath and spun to face the man who’d just spoken to her. He stood a few feet away, his stare as cold and clinical as the impossibly white room they were currently in.

Shirayuki had a million questions, but the most pressing one to her was, “Did you just read my mind?”

The man waved a dismissive hand. “There are no secrets in heaven.”

Heaven? She felt her eyes go wide. That couldn’t be right. She hadn’t-

“Exactly,” he said. “You haven’t. Despite how many chances?”

Fourteen. This last had been her worst failure yet. Zen had barely just begun to agree to be her friend when he’d died in a car accident. They’d been nineteen. She’d had to live sixty-six years without him. At least she’d had Obi by her side for most of those, her constant companion no matter how unpredictable Zen’s presence in her life was.

“You have been favored by the gods,” the man said. “But even they have limits, and you are testing theirs.”

“How?” Shirayuki asked, confused and vaguely frustrated. It wasn’t her fault Zen kept dying. If anything, that was on the god who were patting themselves on the back for giving her the opportunities to be with him.

A corner of the man’s lips quirked up, a show of humor there and gone so quickly she couldn’t even be sure she’d seen it in the first place.

“Is it wise to place blame on gods in their own kingdom?” he asked mildly.

“I don’t care about kings or gods,” Shirayuki said. “I care about Zen.”

This time, he didn’t try to hide his amusement. One corner of his lips tilted upwards as he said, “We are not meant to interfere with human lives, you know.”

“Why did you, then? With mine?”

“Eternity is long.”

“So you’re bored.”

His lip curled a little higher.

“We are not meant to interfere with human lives,” the man said, “and we are especially not meant to guide them after they’ve failed to listen to what we have been telling them for, what was it, sixteen times now?”

“Fourteen.”

“The gods are getting restless. You have taken our gift, but are refusing to use it properly.”

She frowned, uncomprehending.

“Think of-”

Shirayuki was a toddler. She was a toddler for the fifteenth time. And the last thing she remembered from her past life was a baffling conversation with a god.

Chubby, clumsy hands reached for oversized building blocks. What were gods to a three-year-old anyway? She could sort that conversation out after her brain had developed past addition and proper sentence structure. Right now, she had a castle to build.

Her brain was on Calculus and essays by the time she met Obi again.

The campus coffee shop was absolutely packed after her first class of the day, but she was fine with a line so long as she got something large, iced, and caffeinated. It was already pushing 90 degrees and the air conditioning in Blake Hall was on the fritz; she was definitely going to need something to get her through her next two classes.

She was debating trying something new or going for classic iced coffee when she felt eyes on her. She skimmed past the man with an arm draped casually over the open chair next to him, slouched low in his own seat. Her attention snapped back to him when she registered the fact that she knew those warm eyes that were almost always sharper than his lazy, relaxed body language. Her stomach flipped over in excitement and surprise. She’d always met Zen before she ran into Obi. She hadn’t realized how much she’d come to expect the routine of Zen-before-Obi until Obi had changed the game. It was a specialty of his, really. For all that he was a steady, dependable presence in her life, he made sure to change things up every once in a while. It kept life fun, and she always missed his unique brand of zest until he showed up and distracted her from the more mundane parts of her days with his casual chaos.

She gave up her spot in line to make her way through the throng of loitering students over to his table, slid into the chair next to him - her only choice, really, since the other two chairs were occupied by apparent strangers who didn’t so much as glance up from their laptops when she sat down - and said, “Hi. I know you don’t know me right now, but we’re going to be very good friends.”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow, the corners of his lips twitching in suppressed amusement, and said, “That has never worked, you know.”

Shirayuki blinked.

“What?” she asked after a moment of attempting to parse his words.

Too casual to be anything but an act, he said, “You always promise we’re going to be friends, and you’re right, but you gotta boil the frog a little first. Buy a girl dinner. You can’t just come in hot like that.”

What? It sounded like- like he remembered. But that wasn’t possible. He never remembered. Neither did Zen, nor any of the others. She was the only keeper of their past.

His smile grew as she worked out what he was telling her, full of amusement and fondness, eyes sparkling as he watched her unravel his secret in real time. It was the kind of expression built on shared history.

“You,” she said, trying and failing not to hope, “remember me?”

“Remember you, Miss?” he asked with feigned surprise, even as his oldest nickname for her gave the game away. Then, softer, he said, “I don’t know how I was ever able to forget.”

He was hers again. Immediately. She didn’t have to spend months - years - regaining his trust this time. The sheer relief that washed over her was almost overwhelming in its intensity. Without conscious thought, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him as tightly as she could with their knees awkwardly in the way.

“I’m so happy to see you,” she said into his collarbone. “I’ve missed you.”

After a brief pause, she felt his arms wind around her back. Almost too soft to be heard over the din of the coffee shop, he said, “I’ll always come back to you.”

#guiltyobiyuki22 #day two #at some point in this fic i will never write obi tells shirayuki 'i have loved you in every lifetime'#but i don't have the patience or skill to do what i want to do with this idea (it's free real estate if anyone wants it)#but basically i wanted to explore reincarnation gone wrong #i read this book when i was in high school called 'my name is memory' about two people who keep getting reincarnated #but only the guy remembers and when they find each other he has to convince her they're in love #this is obviously inspired by that but a little to the left because what if their number of unhappy endings were a sign?#what if shirayuki was given the chance to get her happy ending but stubbornly held on to the belief that she and zen were meant to be #so the gods keep killing him in the hopes she'll look around and see who's always by her side #but instead she thinks 'next time i have to try harder and make him love me quicker' because she's loyal to a fault #anyway i hope it's okay if i play #this is such a fun idea for a challenge and i can't wait to read what everyone else has written #updates on 'oath and claw' and 'soul m8' have my attention and excitement #my fic #snow white with the red hair #obiyuki

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batgirlsay · 2 years ago

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Sounds of Our Love

A Playlist for Zenyuki Week 2022 by @zenyuki-festival-2021

Only had a few Zen songs saved up from my last set of playlists, so I accidentally ended up with another Eisley and Copeland playlist… but I am glad I was able to use another perfect Copeland B-side with a grey/red color reference!

The playlist title comes from Wonder English, from my original Shirayuki playlist!

Wonder English- Eisley Don’t Slow Down- Copeland You Belong Here- Anberlin You Love To Sing (Slow Version)- Copeland When You’re Smiling My Way- GLASWING (Aaron Marsh of Copeland) What Cannot Be Found- Copeland Be Still My Heart- The Postal Service

Songs are in order of the prompts for the week and summary lyrics are cited after the cut:

Wonder English- Eisley (Day 1: Communication)

If I might be as so bold to say, you saved my life I'm wondering, wonder English, oh I've found Has no words to correctly describe The way love sounds

Don’t Slow Down- Copeland (Day 2: Independence/Individuality)

With a heart so pure You could fall so quickly But don't you dare slow down for me

You could take everything I have Just don't leave my side now, don't leave my side

They say I don't know how to love the right way But you make me feel, you make me feel like I do

You Belong Here- Anberlin (Day 3: Appreciation)

You belong here You were meant to be with me

You've got the better part of me Always have and always will

You've got the better part of me And you know that I'm right

A heart that's not worth breaking, Isn't worth much, not at all

You'll be the better part of me, for the rest of my life

You Love To Sing (Slow Version)- Copeland (Day 4: Respect)

I've never any time to play It always seems to slip away But it never really goes by While I wait here with my level head For our only try

Sing with your head up With your eyes closed Not because you love the song Because you love to sing

You saw frustration on my brow You noticed I'm distracted now I'm thinking only of my bill fold And how I want to face you With diamonds and gold in my head

When You’re Smiling My Way- GLASWING (Aaron Marsh of Copeland) (Day 5: Admiration)

Across a bright sky to another lifetime I saw your face I whispered your name I watched you watching me

You're lovely when you're looking back at me You're lovely when you're smiling my way

In a moment I realized you're mine Takes some getting used to, to know we'll be alright

What Cannot Be Found- Copeland (Day 6: Inspiration)

Though every eye is wide, there's still not one to find it It vanishes like wine with nothing left behind it I found your life in grey and white and never thought I'd color it

And love put up an awful fight You never made your peace with it

So stay where you are, and hold what you love, and feel what you want And know all the while, don't hurt 'til it's done

Be Still My Heart- The Postal Service (Day 7: Spontaneity)

And on the bus I could have sworn, It was all a dream, and it didn't happen to me

And then I felt the scrapes From the slippery subway grate Oh, how you laughed at my complete lack of grace

But I could not recall A more perfect fall Cause when I looked up into your eyes It didn't hurt at all

And I thought, be still my heart This could be a brand new start with you

#zenyuki week 2022 #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #zenyuki #playlist #eisley #copeland #anberlin #glaswing #aaron marsh #the postal service #oops another copeland playlist

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aca-4 · 3 years ago

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I know Halloween is still a week away, shh

This entire thing was really just an excuse to find costumes I think the group would wear and draw them. Plus a little comic for fun. Additional explanations below:

Mettaton: Vampire

‘Cause they tend to be interpreted looking very stylishly and it’s not the first time he’s out for human blood XD

Undyne and Alphys: Shirayuki and Zen from Snow White with the Red Hair

Obviously a couple cosplay for our anime fans. Wasn’t sure wich couple at first, but then I remembered this show, how the protagonist has red hair and thought it was a perfect fit. Think that was also one of the very first (if not the first) animes I’ve ever watched, so that’s nice.

Papyrus: Royal Guardsman

Updated his costume we already see him wear. He looks just like a royal guard now! And I was only getting slightly frustrated with how the hell I should draw his helmet!

Sans: Skeleton

An obvious and simple choice as he explains himself. Turns out ribcages are hard to draw, though; even with reference pics. Which you don’t even see much of in the end result because of his jacket...

Frisk: Conveniently Shaped Lamp

Joining Sans in humor. Also something simpler and kinda last minute as they were the one working very hard on Flowey’s costume! Speaking of...

Flowey: The evil plant from Little Shop of Horrors

Pretty self-explanatory. Just don’t feed him!

Toriel: Angel

Figured she’d go with something harmless and keep it simple. She doesn’t want to scare kids away, after all!

Asgore: Santa Claus??

I know what you’re thinking and I admit this was more intended as a joke. I probably should have given him something classic like a zombie or a mummy costume, but I just thought it would be hilarious if he got his human holidays mixed up or forgot to buy a new costume. I really gotta work on how I draw him, though. Sorry, goat dad :(

----

UNDERTALE and its characters belong to Toby Fox

#undertale #undertale art #halloween costumes #undertale comic #monster found family #wait do people really not use this tag?

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another-miracle · 3 years ago

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Nobody actually told Obi what exactly happened to make Shirayuki leave Tanbarun (now on AO3)

Leave it to Sarah to know the exact “right to the good part” scenario I needed to scratch my writing itch. This one’s for you @claudeng80 :) Set before Eisetsu arc when Shirayuki, Obi and Ryuu are still travelling on the road together.

Dinner starts off as a simple affair. Miss cooks up half the dishes while Obi settles the other half in the in-built kitchen of a decidedly-not-small room they’ve found themselves in (wonders what accommodation one affords with all that sweet Wisteria cash; they are delegates after all). A trade-off that they’d agreed on so that they could cook and have dinner in the same space they would reside for the night - instead of going down to the common area. Ryuu sets the table as best he can.

Eventually, they settle down to eat. The conversation steers towards Miss’ early days in the pharmacy - Ryuu still a boy who hid under tables, a fact present-Ryuu did not appreciate being brought up - and Miss still desperately trying to find her footing in a foreign land. It’s new to Obi, to hear of their endeavours before his arrival to Clarines, and he finds himself enjoying the journey down memory lane. That is, until Miss drops a wayward comment that catches the both of them off guard.

So casual, she says, “It’s so funny. And to think I’d almost had to live my life as Raj’s concubine.”

Ryuu freezes and his eyes dart over to Obi. Similarly, Obi’s glass has paused over his lips. It feels like the air in the room has been abruptly sucked out. The word ‘concubine’ rings in his ears as Miss continues to laugh between bites.

“What do you mean concubine?” Obi asks carefully. He’d thought she’d been invited to the palace to be a princess, or perhaps a lady-in-waiting. To be seen, not...

“Oh yes,” Miss shares, something almost fond lining her lips. “Raj and Sakaki-san had pretty wild ideas back then. Sent me poisoned apples and everything.”

“Miss-what?”

Shirayuki looks up, only now noticing Obi’s tone. Next to him, Ryuu lowers his utensils down and places them on either side of his plate. Obi immediately fixates on Miss’ form. His eyes dart down to her arms, searching for any scars, mind desperately rifling through memories of when they first met, whether she had been constantly wearing long sleeves. She’d worn leggings all this while hasn’t she? Obi resists the urge to bend down to look under the table.

“Oh,” Miss starts again, startling Obi’s gaze back to hers. “Oh! He didn’t get to me- I mean, he did. It’s a funny story actually- Zen ended up being the one eating said apple and getting poisoned. I’d only followed to get the antidote, but thankfully-” she glances at Ryuu, “Zen has had quite a resistance against most poisons, and he was fine.”

The sentence is met with tense silence. Ryuu seems to be staring at his plate as if the peas could conjure up a response. A part of Obi wants to shake the boy and tell him not to worry, to crack a joke to diffuse the air. The other part is blinded by red hot anger. The urge to retrieve his knives and march right up to Tanbarun to commit regicide thrums wildly in his temples.

Friend of the Crown? What on earth was Master thinking - working with someone like that. What on earth was he thinking? He’d spent every afternoon for a month, watching, not knowing, as the two - kidnapper and concubine-to-be - traipsed through the gardens of Tanbarun castle, sat next to each other for hours in the libraries. He’d carried the man on his fucking shoulders.

A touch to his hands and his eyes fly open. Miss’s hand is placed on his, on both of their hands. A small smile plays at her lips. Obi turns to Ryuu. The boy looks frustrated enough to cry.

Miss gives a small laugh. “Hey, it’s over alright? I didn’t bring it up to see you guys upset. It was just in passing. And look, we’re all here now. Royal delegates, serving the Wisteria Crown for the greater good of her people!”

Miss glances up at him, then flicks her gaze at Ryuu. Obi suddenly remembers how distraught Ryuu was when they returned to Clarines after their visit to Tanbarun, having only received news that Miss had been kidnapped. He also remembers the fear in his eyes when both he and Shirayuki succumbed to the then-Lyrias disease.

Obi sighs.

His hand reaches out to ruffle Ryuu’s hair. “Yeah,” Obi says, “Miss wouldn’t let something like that get her down. She’s strong, isn’t she, Little Ryuu?”

Ryuu stares up at him, unshed tears, his gaze darting between the both of them. Obi gives him his best reassuring smile; he knows Miss does too, even if he doesn’t look at her.

The boy sniffs. “Yeah- she is. Yeah.”

--------

Later when the plates are cleared and Ryuu has fallen asleep, exhausted from the additional emotional tirade he had earlier, Obi finds Miss by the window. She sits with her feet propped on the sill, arms wrapped around her knees, gaze focused on the distant horizon. The moon is out, deciding to grace Miss in all the splendour and glow her countenance deserves. If Miss thinks he looks good by the firelight, then it should be of no consequence for him to say-

“You look good in the moonlight, Miss,” Obi tells her, holding out a cup of tea and sitting down by her. Miss accepts the drink with a smile before looking out again. She is quiet - more so than usual. Obi sips his tea and waits.

She thumbs at the rim of the cup, looks down, then up at him. With a sheepish smile, she says, “I wonder if that’s something I might have heard from...men...if…”

She trails off, bringing the cup to her lips, the picture of grace and relief. Obi, on the other hand, is struck frozen for the second time this evening. That’s not what he meant. That’s not what he meant.

“Miss-”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Miss rushes out. “That wasn’t fair- it’s just- it’s my fault, I’d brought it up. I don’t mean to say that you’re like any of them- I don’t-”

Miss breathes, a shaky exhale. Obi watches as she struggles with something bigger than her, bigger than the both of them. It’s something more immense than even the distance between two countries, if he’s honest. His heart pulls toward her; the burden she has been carrying for almost two years - the shame, the fear - feelings he has no way of possibly understanding in this lifetime. He aches to reach out for her, but he’s not sure- in that moment, he rehashes every single touch between the two of them. Belatedly, he also finally understands why she’d run when Master kissed her.

“It’s alright,” he murmurs, an assurance that falls flat in the space between them. Miss hums in response, forcing out a smile at him in apology. And- Obi doesn’t want that. How many smiles has she hidden behind? Sweet words that fall from her lips - not just to him, but to the very people who’d wanted to kidnap her, to turn her into an object of possession, to reduce her brilliant mind and her wonderful soul and the endlessly faith-bearing light in her eyes into a mere ornament to be gawked at, prodded until nothing is left. What has he been doing? What have they all been doing?

Obi places his mug down on the table before sidling up to the sill, back to the scenery, hands clasped in front of him. He notices Miss is looking at him curiously. Obi sets his gaze on the ceiling, tracing the cracks in the concrete. He doesn’t do this- doesn’t offer more than platitudes to soothe, doesn’t give others more than he should, more than he can spare another human being. But- he thinks of the broken smile on Miss’ face-

“I’d almost lost my life once,” Obi tells the ceiling. “Thought myself hot shit and went around accepting jobs that were clearly beyond my pay grade. Risked my life because I’d thought it a resource to be utilized when needed - as long as it puts bread on the table, money in my pocket.”

Obi turns down and gives Miss a wan smile. “And it’s funny, because that was me when I met you. You, with all your incredible courage, this red-haired girl who’d walked forward in face of an arrow shot at her. Who’d saved an entire colony in face of a disease no one knew. Who’d jumped off a tower. Who’d walked straight back into the place she’d been running from, head held high, into the den of the very person who’d deigned her an object.

Miss flinches at this. And Obi aches.

“And-” Obi pauses. Breathes. “So much of me just wants to ride down the South back to Tanbarun, go up to Raj’s door and wrangle his neck - him and Sakaki both. But beyond that, Miss-”

Obi stares at her, willing the words, “You are beyond what anyone says of you, beyond whatever value anyone places on you. You’re not some object that someone just picks up and calls their own. Because whatever that’s in there,” Obi jabs his thumb against his chest, “it’s not something that can be assigned by anyone else. You are your own person, Miss. You belong to you. And it’s this you who has toppled boundaries, created antidotes, you and your brilliant mind, and your wonderful soul and everything that is you.

“And-” Obi wrenches his gaze from her, hand coming up to push down on his shoulder. “I can’t imagine myself without you. I’ve changed, because of you. Myself and many other people you’ve met in Clarines - Little Ryuu, too. So please-

“Don’t think you are anything less than who you have made yourself to be. Don’t let anything cause that- not Raj, not Master, not Izana, not even me. You are yours, Miss.”

Obi says it quietly, a whisper taken by the wind into the meadows ahead of them. But he knows Miss hears it all the same. Obi lets the words take up the silence, let them take root. He hopes, desperately, that in between the awkward cadence and messy phrasing, Miss may find some comfort in them. An unspoken assurance that he is on her side - always have, and always will be.

Sneaking a glance at her, Obi is startled to find Miss’ head buried in her knees, shoulder shaking.

He jumps up and immediately frets. “M-miss, ahh- I didn’t mean to make you upset! I’m sorr-”

In an instant, Obi’s hand is enclosed between both of hers, warmth effusing through skin. A warbled laugh escapes her and she looks up from her knees up at him. Arrested by the tears in her eyes, Obi watches as she smiles that broken smile again - only this time, he knows it isn’t forced. She brings his hand close to her, and places the back of it against her forehead. Obi’s hand twitches, almost aching to cup her face and rub the tears trickling down - but clearly Miss is having a moment as she closes her eyes and breathes.

“Thank you, Obi,” Miss tells him, words entangling around his fingers. ��It never gets easier- I don’t think it will, but-”

She takes his hand and cups it against her cheek anyway, collapsing all his walls. “You, being here. You remind me that I’m worth more.”

He can’t resist his fingers running across the apples of her cheekbones. He wipes away every tear that falls and bends down close, leaning his forehead against hers. There are no words to describe the monument of a woman before him now, and as he draws strength from this little form of comfort he’s offered, he only hopes she receives the same.

It will not be easy, probably never will, as Miss says.

But Obi will be damned if she ever faces it alone again.

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #this has to be one of the most emotionally exhausting fics i’ve ever written #yixin’s fic

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obiyuki-beebs · 3 years ago

Text

and it goes on: an excerpt

Obiyuki Bingo 2021

Words: 565

Free space! Chronic illness / Disability AU.

@snowwhite-andtheknight

-------

Shirayuki wondered, after the fact, if she was simply ignoring the signs. If maybe she could have done something earlier that would have made it easier.

There were days they spent foraging in the woods -- collecting the wild herbs that weren’t so easy to cultivate in controlled conditions -- that at the end of them, her knees ached. Aching like a knife in between the bones; aching until she sank into the hot bath in Lilias central; aching until the willow bark solution finally, finally, started to work.

There was a whole month in Autumn when both of her thumbs were inexplicably useless. Her grip floundered often, and Shidan almost seemed like he might be frustrated when she dropped her sixth medicine vial. She realizes after the second week that her frequent massage of the joints is not providing any relief and takes Ryuu’s advice to simply ice and let them rest. He sat with her in the pharmacy, small hands in his as he examined them, his brows furrowed.

It had been slightly alarming when she heard the sharp crack of her hips as she climbed into bed in the dead of winter, echoing around her small room. But it happened so rarely -- only every few months, she thought -- that it didn’t seem like something that needed attention. Just the snap of her tendons over the joint. Normal. Something everyone goes through.

Perhaps the most intrusive change that she had, for whatever reason, ignored was when she was no longer able to maintain energy with just her usual, single cup of tea; Shirayuki quickly found herself consuming three to four mugs of coffee to stave off the all-encompassing exhaustion that overtook her. The cost of staying alert while she worked was a frightful inability to slip into sleep in the evenings, and soon she was living in a cycle of perpetual, endless sleep deprivation.

-----

If only, if only, if only. But there is no going back.

And then, her life changed.

-------

Shirayuki woke up slowly the morning after Suzu and Yuzuri’s wedding; it was a riotous affair, complete with mead and line dancing so fervent that she was sure it was simply the dancing that had made it so difficult to climb the stairs to her room. Waking was difficult, and her entire body was stiff, but surely, surely, it was just the effects of alcohol and her usual plague of poor sleep.

Back to work, she thought to herself, moving slowly, dressing slowly. The now-familiar weight of fatigue hung like a shroud. Just make it through the day.

Ryuu eyed her from his desk in the pharmacy as she trundled into the room, feet hardly lifting from the stone slab.

“Shirayuki,” he spoke as he rose, approaching her with the face she recognized as his assessment-underway expression, “You seem different.”

“Oh, you know. Too much to drink.”

“Hmm. Have you taken anything?”

“Willow bark.”

He nodded, eyes skirting down to look at her quivering hands.

“Please keep me informed of how you’re feeling. I’m concerned.”

“I can tell. Thank you, I will,” she replied, smiling and turning towards the schedule listing expected patient visits.

Ryuu hadn’t left yet, seeming to expect her to say something else.

“I-” she started, face falling and voice dipping lower, “To be honest, I’m concerned, too.”

He simply nodded, lifting his hand to her shoulder with a reassuring pat.

-------

Hello hi thank you for reading!

Write about what you know, eh? Hope you don’t mind my wildly obvious self-insert fic contribution. Changes made to better fit Shirayuki but I am mostly drawing from my own experience.

I do have a plan for this but .... tbd.

#obiyukibingo21 #obiyuki #obi x shirayuki #Akagami no Shirayukihime #wip #my writing #chronic illness au #will probably be exceptionally angsty #do u see my pattern of just giving enough to fill the fill #ha #please ignore the frequent tense changes #hopefully will fix that as progress is made #no betaaaa

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queenofwordsandnerds · 4 years ago

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My thoughts on AnS Manga Ch. 119 and 120

Okay I may be late to the party but I have so many feels about these two chapters I have to get them out there or I may explode...

I CAN'T be the only one freaking out about these chapters, can I? They both contained such BEAUTIFUL and OBVIOUS Obiyuki moments that if I was in any doubt as to Sorata Akizuki's intentions before, I'm not now. Obiyuki HAS to be endgame. All the moments in these recent chapters are so subtle yet well-crafted...it can't be an accident.

Let me start by drawing your attention to the beginning of Chapter 119, specifically the title panel and the panel before that:

LOOK. AT. THIS. I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming in the car with my mom when I read this. This and the next panel, more than anything else, confirms my belief that Sorata intends for Obiyuki to be endgame.

So in the first panel, Shirayuki and Tsuruba are waiting outside the party for Obi's signal. He steps outside to the balcony and waves the glowing crystal that SHIRAYUKI GAVE HIM (the fact that THAT was their prearranged signal gives me life because that crystal has so much meaning at this point). But he was supposed to flash it, not wave it. Tsuruba is concerned and asks Shirayuki if everything was all right. Shirayuki immediately gets this intense concern on her face, and she says this:

"No...Obi would do exactly as he said. Without a doubt."

Shirayuki knows Obi so well, probably better than he knows himself. She KNOWS INSTANTLY that something's wrong. It speaks volumes to their level of connection. They've always been able to tell when something is wrong with the other, even when other people don't see it. It makes me endlessly frustrated how well they know each other yet they're so blind (at least on Shirayuki's end).

And THEN. THEN.

THE TITLE PANEL.

LOOK AT IT!!! This panel comes right after the first one, by no accident. Sorata WANTS you to have Obiyuki's connection and Shirayuki's concern for Obi in your mind while you read this title panel.

This is the second title panel that has featured Obiyuki dead center of attention with significant wording beneath the phrase "A romance that cuts through fate." If the first title panel wasn't obvious enough...this one is. If I was a new reader and I only saw this panel...I would think that Obiyuki was the "romance that cuts through fate." Other wonderful tumblr users have explained how Obiyuki could be this romance, so I won't go into it...but this is just further confirmation from Sorata to me.

The first title panel read "please, take my hand." This one reads "unwavering trust." The CONTINUITY. DO YOU SEE IT THE WAY I DO?? This title panel is a response to the first one. Shirayuki trusts Obi enough--unwaveringly--to take his hand. There's nobody else that phrase could refer to. Obiyuki's trust in each other is legendary, even within the story. Other characters see them as a unit. (And their hands aren't visible in this panel but close enough that I like to believe they're holding hands beneath the frame here. It's possible!)

Am I reading too much into this? Maybe. But I can't be the only one who sees the massive significance?? I just can't!

Also, I will say the one issue I had with the story was the lack of Shirayuki in a gorgeous mask and ball gown infiltrating the party on Obi's arm (and Obi's utter swamp mess of feelings upon seeing his Miss dressed up). I feel ROBBED on that score. But at least we got to see our cat boi in his fancy clothes and mask...can we just take a moment to appreciate how FINE our boi looks? Like LOOK AT HIM

STUNNING SO SEXY SHIRAYUKI YOU BLIND WOMAN-

Ok moving on

So these next two panels were my FAVORITE part of the whole two chapters. Shirayuki and Tsuruba are outside and Shirayuki asks Tsuruba to help her up onto the balcony. But Obi APPEARS out of nowhere like he was summoned by a call (lbh his Miss asking for help probably was a call) and he jumps down besides Shirayuki and lifts her up himself before Tsuruba can even move...all without saying a word.

OUR BOI IS THE ONLY MAN ALLOWED TO HELP HIS MISS AND ONLY HIM. ZEN WHO??

Seriously, this part is so short yet so significant. It takes up a notable number of panels, and we didn't need to have Obi help Shirayuki. Tsuruba could have done it. But Sorata devotes these pages to this scene so we can SEE that Obi is still his Miss's loyal knight. He still takes care of her and is probably a bit jealous of another guy helping her when that's HIS JOB. It's a sharp reminder that not only is Obi very much Shirayuki's knight, but also he's still in love with her. It's just a sweet scene with a very easily discernible romantic element.

Also...that panel of Obi kneeling at Shirayuki's feet with his cape fluttering, ready to aid her...*chefs kiss* I could stare at that panel for hours. The facial expressions and detail during this scene is also priceless. I would rate it in the top 10 Obiyuki manga scenes, honestly.

SHIRAYUKI YOU SWEET GIRL HOW CAN YOU BE SO BLIND I SWEAR-

The rest of the Obiyuki moments that I noticed were more minor, but still really significant to their story and development as a whole. There's several panels of Obi and Shirayuki considering things together, being concerned together, working out solutions together...

Like this one (the way he hovers protectively over her shoulder tho...it's almost like his right hand is on her back):

Or this one:

THIS ONE MURDERED ME:

LOOK AT THE SYMMETRY. THE PARALLELS. THE BACK TO BACK. THE WAY THEY THINK THROUGH THINGS TOGETHER.

Obiyuki's legendary similarity in thinking will always impress me. They share such similar thought processes, they LITERALLY finish each other's sentences. And the way they come to the same conclusion in this panel and they share the same determined look like "yeah, we know what we're thinking and we know what we've got to do and we're on the same team" JUST KILL ME NOW. Could you get any more couple-y without being an officially canon couple?

And the last panel of them together: Shirayuki can ride on her own now but she sits behind Obi JUST LIKE OLD TIMES and how the two close-up panels of their faces are just too perfect and they're ready to take on the danger together like the absolute unit they are-

So yeah

Chapter 119 and 120 had some of the best Obiyuki moments I've seen in a while, honestly. The plot didn't go in the way I expected, but it was SO GOOD! The drama and pacing were absolutely on point, I can't wait until December I need to find out what happens NOW!

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kaedix · 3 years ago

Text

Storm (Izanayuki)

Shirayuki turned the key in the ignition one more time - but her last shred of hope dissipated as her car squealed pathetically before falling silent.

Of course this would happen tonight. Of course.

Shirayuki rested her head on the steering wheel with a sigh. She tried not to be too pessimistic, but it was almost three in the morning and her long workday had consisted of one unexpected mess after another. She was irritated, ready to be home, and in desperate need of a hot bath.

She was too exhausted to cry, but she wished she could. It would probably help her feel better. Frustration tugged at her nerves as she tried to switch her brain into solution mode.

Who could she call at almost three in the morning?

Obi was an option, but Shirayuki knew that he had just gotten back from his trip with Zen just a few hours ago. Both of them were probably completely zonked, and Shirayuki couldn't bring herself to encroach on their much needed sleep.

Calling Kihal was out of the question - she had a 6 a.m. class. There was no way Shirayuki could wake her roommate up in good conscience to come rescue her at such an ungodly hour.

Shirayuki supposed she could go back inside and sleep in the staff room. But that didn't appeal to her at all, and neither did sleeping in her car.

Shirayuki picked up her phone and stared at the time.

2:42.

No one was awake. No one could come get her. It was a thought that hit Shirayuki with a wave of unexpected loneliness as she sat in her defunct car in an empty parking lot.

She swiped the lock screen on her phone - she was stalling, not wanting to get out of her car and trudge back into the dark building to sleep on a couch that meant well, but in all honesty was hard and occasionally lumpy.

Just a quick scroll through Twitter, Shirayuki told herself. Then she would resign herself to her fate.

A tiny orange notification caught her eye at the bottom of her screen, hovering over the messaging app icon.

She'd missed a text?

Read the rest on AO3

#izanayuki #dog hotel au

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sabraeal · 3 years ago

Text

We Seek That Which We Shall Not Find, Ch 8

[Read on AO3]

Written for @eveluboi for winning the Obiyuki Trope Madness 2021 betting kitty! I meant for this to be out way back in June, but it quickly slipped from a 4-5K projected fic to 7K 😂

Cold porcelain presses up against her palms, slick from where her fingers wrap around the sink’s edge. Shirayuki bows her head down, watching the water spiral down the drain, and breathes. In and out; in and out. If she hadn’t left her phone out on the table, she could look at one of those gifs she bookmarked; the one where the triangle becomes a decagon maybe, or where the star burst becomes a mandala. But she did, so instead she has to visualize it, counting out the shapes behind her eyelids.

It doesn’t work, but at least it’s something.

There’s something distinctly high school dance about hiding the the bathroom-- though in here, it’s impossible to just sit on the toilet and brace her legs against the door. Not that she needs to; unlike a bathroom stall, this door actually locks. A feature she’s sure has nothing to do with whatever the Wisterias plan to get up to in that Jacuzzi tub.

Shirayuki frankly refuses to speculate on what that might be. She still has to look Izana in the eye tonight, and the last thing she needs is to be thinking about him doing-- things in here, with people. Maybe he just has a compressed spine at the ripe old age of twenty-five, the kind that can’t be alleviated by anything less than eight massage jets.

In any case, this whole strategy of retreat isn’t really her style. Or at least, it hadn’t been, until...before. Which was a blip on an otherwise spotless record of confronting her problems head-on, with the sort of determined attitude Jaja fondly refers to as foolhardy, and Busha calls bull-headedness.

Her fingers grip the bowl firmly, levering herself up to stare into the mirror. She can do this. She can go right out there, sit down, and have Lynet reject this proposal. Because a normal person wouldn’t hide in the bathroom to avoid a fictional conflict.

Right. Shiaryuki drops her hands, giving her reflection a steely nod. It’s not like this is her first time turning down a boy; even if Shuuka throws her in a dungeon, he’ll still have taken her rejection better than the last one did, and that was a real live person. Not that Raj is much of a measuring stick for any kind of model behavior, but-- still. The point stands.

The door gives beneath the pressure of her hand, opening with a silence that’s confusing rather than comforting. Zen’s house might not be as old as hers, but it’s still not new; the apartment went up in the last five years, and its doors still hang crooked, screaming every time they move more than an inch. She can’t imagine Izana going around oiling hinges.

“Hey.” A hand catches her, strong fingers banding around her wrist. Pale ones, slender and well-trimmed; she traces them right up a crisp flannel to find Kiki frowning down at her. “I would give it a minute.”

Shirayuki blinks, and suddenly the world refocuses. It’s oddly silent in the basement, only the thin tumble of dice from the floor above. Obi’s either up to something or Beaumains is in trouble; she can’t even beging to guess which one would be worse.

And Kiki’s leaning here, right against the neutral paint, waiting for her. She shifts, casting a worried look toward the game room. “Is something--?”

Mitsuhide clears his throat; it echoes down the empty hall, a sound that fills the space like thunder overhead. Shirayuki bites back the impulse to count until next lightning strike; even though she knows it should be the other way around, that light travels faster than sound, but this--

“Is something wrong?” Zen drawls, sounding nothing like the boy who sits next to her in homeroom. No, sounding like this, he’s every inch Izana’s brother.

-- this is different. Bedwyr uses his words before he dares draw his blade, and it comes too naturally to be anything besides pure Mitsuhide, just like Beaumains’ quick tongue is the same one that wags in Obi’s mouth. He rumbles before the strike, and this one is destined to hit too close to home.

“Zen.” There’s something about how Mitsuhide wields a name; Shirayuki hardly knows him-- not as much as Zen and Kiki, anyway-- but when he says hers, it’s like having those giant arms cradling her tight against his chest, in a way that is less romantic and more like a tiny kitten living in a jacket pocket. When he says Obi’s, it’s a buzz, a burr, the sound before a siren wails, a warning that will never become a threat.

And when he says Zen’s right now, it’s a weight, a boulder to bear like Atlas shoulders the earth. It’s the moment before the punishment comes in the last act; the last temptation to turn the antagonist back onto the path of the righteous. “You should rethink your behavior tonight.”

“My behavior?” Zen squawks, chair clattering beneath him. “I haven’t even done anything.”

Mitsuhide’s silence speaks volumes.

“I haven’t,” Zen insists, though it’s weaker this time. “You’re the ones who are just letting Obi act like the rules don’t apply to him.”

“We are?”

“Well...” The pout sits sullenly on this tongue. “Izana is. And you guys aren’t doing anything about it either!”

Mitsuhide heaves a sigh that would make trees sway. Kiki’s fingers flex in sympathy against her shoulder. “I think you’re being a little unfair.”

“Unfair?” The word squeaks at the end of Zen’s range. “What’s unfair is that Izana invited that guy for the specific purpose of scaring Shirayuki off, and no one seems to care.”

Shirayuki only realizes she’s moved when Kiki’s grip holds her back, one foot still hovering over the floor, poised to make a very determined stomp. Words are welling up in her like ground water during a storm; a whole monologue that threatens to flood the basement of her common sense. The whole night comes back to her in inches; every slight, every complaint is magnified tenfold now that she knows it comes to this, and she--

“Give them a minute,” Kiki murmurs. “Sometimes Zen just needs a swift application of a boot to his ass.”

She blinks up at her, body vibrating with a need to do something. “And Mitsuhide will do that?”

A picture might be a thousand words, but somehow Kiki’s eyebrows could compose a novel. She lifts them a bare, dubious inch, and Shirayuki knows that chapter one starts with, and you think you’d do any better? “You’ll see. He’ll come around. Have a little faith.”

Bitter words lick up her throat, a carefully composed diatribe furiously scribed by her irritation. A list of all Zen’s petty squabbles, of all the times he’d tried to sideline her or sequester Obi ready to spill out, but--

But she swallows it down. Tonight’s tried her patience for sure, but it’d been Zen who leaned across the aisle in homeroom her first day. The one who’d stuck out a hand and said, you must be new. The one who had made sure she’d had somewhere to sit at lunch-- sure, Kihal had found her by then, adopting her like a baby bird fallen from a nest, but he’d swung by even though his wasn’t until next period.

That’s what’s so frustrating, to be honest-- she knows how good he can be. So the fact he’s choosing to act this way instead...

Her shoulders sag under the weight of Kiki’s hand. “I’m trying to.”

When Mitsuhide speaks again, it’s even, patient; she’d be tempted to say it was like a parent to a child, but there’s no condescension, no sense of speaking down but rather across. “That’s possible. But you’re still the only one acting hostile at this table.”

Zen’s huffs, indignant. “So you want me to just sit here and let them ruin Shirayuki’s experience?”

Kiki pushes past her with a parting pat, sauntering into the room. “How could they when you’re doing such a good job of it yourself?”

Shirayuki can’t see either of the boys, but she can see Kiki when she spins a chair around, dropping down to straddle it. “You may not have noticed, but it doesn’t look like Shirayuki minds Obi being here. At least, not as much as you do.”

“Kiki,” Mitsuhide sighs, a warning. “That’s enough.”

Kiki must not agree, since she leans in, smile sharp enough to cut glass. “Maybe you need to lighten up, brother dearest.”

Zen sucks in a hard breath, like he’s been hit. “Don’t--”

The door rattles at the top of the stairs, a muffled voice turning to a dry laugh as it opens. Her stomach lurches like that moment at the top of a coaster, looking down at the track below. It’s Obi.

Kiki is a flurry of motion; her chair flips beneath her, and she sits back down hard, feet kicking up onto the table. When Izana and Obi emerge from the stairway, it looks like she‘s been idling at a casual tilt for hours, not seconds, but still, still--

Izana lifts one elegantly arched eyebrow. No matter how cleverly they all compose themselves, he almost certainly knows every word that’s been said.

“You’re back?” Zen coughs, his words hobbling awkwardly, dragged down by guilt. Izana’s other eyebrow joins the first. “What happened?”

Obi drops into his seat, cradling chin in hand. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would,” Zen snaps, irritation already rising. “That’s why I asked.”

“Oh, don’t worry--” Obi tosses him a wink designed to send him through the roof-- “you’ll find out.”

“I--”

“If there’s any other business, tell me now,” Izana says, taking his place at the head of the table. “Otherwise, you’ve slept through the night.”

Obi flutters his eyes, grin taking on a feral edge. “Well, you know I’m all taken care of, Majesty.”

“Anyone else?” Izana sighs, long suffering. His eyes flick out over the table, settling into a frown. “Does anyone know where Shirayuki is?”

“Bathroom,” Kiki offers too quick, gaze cutting over to where she hides in the hall, before darting back. The corner of Izana’s mouth pulls deeper, and his eyes lift--

“Ah, I’m here!” Shirayuki hurries out, slipping into her seat. When she looks up Zen’s watching her with wide eyes, gears clunking along behind them as he looks from her to the hall and back, doing the exact equations she was hoping he couldn’t. “Sorry.”

“It’s not a problem,” Izana assures her, keeping his eyes fixed to the screen in front of him. “Did you have anything you needed to do before the night is over?”

“Ah, um.” Her fingers stretch wide over Lynet’s sheet, tips gripping at the table. “Yes. One last thing.”

The stars are bright tonight, shining in the firmament like jewels in velvet. Ancient poets would invoke Diana at the sight, at the thousand heroes and maidens consigned to shine above for defying their fates. Older ones still would call upon Arianrhod, the silver wheel, mother of wind and skies alone, praising the complexity of her beauty.

But when you raise your eyes to heaven’s glorious vault, you see only kingly gift laid at your feet, unasked. And when you lower them, another waits for you in Shuuka’s smile, devastating and earnest.

“A fine night, is it not?” His breath mists in the air between you; a lucky thing, since it obscures your grimace. “In all Our Lord’s creation, a man could not find one finer than this.”

“It is a wonder,” you murmur, stirring the fur at your cloak’s collar. “But I have seen so little of this world that I hesitate to say that in a thousands nights there would not be one that could surpass it.”

His mouth spreads wider still, the pearl of his teeth glimmering in the moon’s light. You’ve pleased him, somehow. “You can only say that, my lady, since you are graced with your own presence every moment, and I have only these. For now.”

Your feet stutter beneath you; the leaves crunching makes him turn, brow raised in concern. “Shuuka...”

“Ah, yes. You wished to speak with me, did you not?” His boot heels clack against the cobbles, coming to perch on the raised bed beside you. He is not close, even still, but having his eyes level with yours makes this moment too intimate for you to keep him fixed in your vision. Instead you turn, leaving him looming at the corner of your eye. “I am your servant in all things, my lady. Speak.”

“My lord,” you begin, for politeness seems the only kindness you can extend to him, “I believe there has been some misunderstanding.”

His head tilts. “A misunderstanding?”

His voice is lower, a manly rumble instead of its usual reedy melody; a child playing at a man. A man he only wishes to become because it might make you happy.

You sigh, your gut tangling as easy as your fingers do above it. Were you any other woman but yourself, you would be pleased to have made a match as fine as this. Perhaps even mere months ago, you would have been comforted by the thought of marrying a man you had met before, even if he had been a silly, sobbing boy at the time. But now, as you are, you cannot care for this-- this life your father wished for you, with no thought to your own.

“About the state of the agreement between our fathers.” Your breath catches in your chest before you manage, “They are both gone.”

Shuuka peers at you with shining eyes, and oh, if only you could choose your words as gently as he deserved. But you know better; a man who wears a hard helm often keeps a harder head beneath it, and women’s words only penetrate such a barrier if they are drawn to a point.

“That I know,” he says, so soft. “And I am sorry for it. But we may yet do what they willed for our future.”

“That is not all,” you continue, each word stinging with guilt. “This understanding was dissolved long before either of them was brought back into the great shepherd’s fold. When my family fell upon misfortune...”

You had hoped it would be easier to speak of it, but the words stick to your teeth, refusing to leave the safety of your mouth. Shuuka reaches out, clasping his hand in yours with far too much understanding for what you wish to say.

“I am not proud of what my father did,” he tells you, sincerity ringing from his words, clear as a church bell. “Though I am certain he thought it would be for the best, at the time. He never pledged my troth to any other, and above any other woman he had entertained to be the Lady of Laxdo, it was of you he spoke most highly.”

“That is--” hard to believe. Not when you spent most of your betrothal dance trodding on his son’s toes-- “Kind of you to say. I know that you value the words of your father above all others--”

“My father’s esteem is exceeded only by that of the Lord in Heaven, may he ever sit at his right hand.” Pain hollows his eyes, so raw that even in health he gleams gaunt beneath the moon’s light. You have both lost your fathers, but this wound is fresh, bleeding still, and yours--

Well, yours sewed up just fine with a little needle and thread. How quickly a wound heals when you must see to it yourself.

“Would that I could talk to him,” Shuuka rasps, fingers clenching around stone. “But I trust that if he could see you now, he would see a daughter still.”

His grief burns brightly, a halo that surrounds him-- no, a shroud, the sort that might bury him beside his fathers bones if he did not take care. It is that which makes all this worse, which turns what you must do from a discomfort to a cruelty. But it is better yet than what it could be if you indulged him, if you let pity and kindness stand where only love should.

“Yes, I understand,” you murmur, gathering every last draught of courage. “But I must admit, my lord, that I do not hold my own father in such esteem. You are a kind man, Lord Shuuka, the sort any woman would count her blessings should she find you as her husband, but I...”

You flounder, the night pressing in thickly around you. What you wouldn’t give for crickets, if only to break the silence.

“Ah.” There is a wealth of hurt hidden in that breath. “But you mean to say that it shall not be you, Lady Lynet.”

“What?” Zen’s eyes blink wide, so bright, so blue across from her. “You’re turning him down?”

Shirayuki stares. “What do you mean?”

“He’s a lord, isn’t he?” It’s a strange thing to ask, especially when they just spent the last week and change-- well, four hours really-- at his castle, but here was Zen, looking toward Izana like he needed clarification. “Wouldn’t Lynet, you know...?”

“Um.” Even with a sweep of Zen’s wrist and the emphatic lift of his eyebrows, Shirayuki still can’t see how that sentence might finish itself. “No, I don’t.”

It’s quiet enough to hear a pin drop, so when Obi lets out a hiccup, isn’t not exactly inconspicuous. She glances over at him, and from the way his mouth twitches at the corners, she’s hardly the first. “Is something...?”

Wrong, she means to say, but Obi gives a single solid shiver and collapses onto the table, head buried in his arms.

There’s a breath where her fingers go numb on the table, where her heart beat practically deafens her as it pound in her ears. She’s not here in the room, she’s out in the yard, a wrinkled arm reaching out to her, and all she can think about is where her phone is, whether she can reach it from here--

“My, my.” Izana’s drawl rattles her back to the table, gaze skittering over Zen’s forbidding glare, the clasped hand over Kiki’s mouth, Mitsuhide’s wide-eyes-- “Isn’t that an interesting question. Now just what does make Lord Shuuka such an attractive partner?”

Obi lifts his head, still trembling, but it’s not some medical event. Oh no, he’s just-- just laughing. Shirayuki catches her breath, holds it, and thinks of a triangle becoming a decagon.

Nothing is wrong. Everyone is safe. Healthy.

“W-well.” Zen’s voice creaks from the reach she suspects he’s about to make. “He has ah, hmm...”

“Large tracts of land?” Obi offers, so helpful.

Zen hands stiffen where he holds them out in front of him. “I wasn’t going to say that.”

His brows give a wiggle. “Looks like it.”

“I--”

“Castle Perilous already has land,” Shirayuki interjects, hoping the tremble hasn’t reached her voice. “Plenty of it.”

Obi leans back in his chair with a grin. “Castle Perilous has everything! Large tracts of lands, at least two level or dungeons, an ominous name...”

She flicks him a flat look. “My point is, Lynet doesn’t need a manor to maintain-- she already left that to save her sister. She has a quest, she doesn’t need--” she waves her hands, steady now-- “romance.”

Obi’s brow ticks up, just the tiniest bit.

“I mean, not with a man she’s only known a week,” she blurts out, feeling heat simmering beneath her collar, licking at her ears. “Why would I be playing D&D if I just wanted to-- to marry Lynet off to the first guy she saw?”

Zen’s mouth fall slack, eyes glued to his character sheet. “Huh.”

“Gee,” Kiki drawls, “all that production for nothing.”

“Shut--”

“If we’re all quite done?” Izana suggests pointedly. “I believe Lady Lynet is not quite done breaking her beau’s heart. Also--” those pale eyes cut toward her, eyebrow quirked pedantically-- “it’s Pathfinder, by the way.”

Kiki lets out a huff. “It’s the same thing.”

With exaggerated care, Izana nudges her character on the map. “It’s really not.”

You take Shuuka’s hands in your own; they’re soft, callused on the mounts like Arturius’. A swordsman’s hands, though not a warrior’s. He flushes beneath your touch, and you wonder if he is bothered by the rough touch of your own, marred by scrapes and scars, so unlike a lady’s that you might as well be a different country. That is what your father had called you once: a different country, the fondness thick in his voice.

That had been before. He had been a different man. You had been a different Lynet. A time you would long for, if you thought it might make any difference at all.

“I have my own path I must tread, my lord,” you murmur, “one that cannot be turned aside for my own comfort.”

He nods, head heavy. “I see. You too have your own quest of honor, like His Grace. A glory that only you can seek.”

“If only it were for glory--” your fingers stiffen in his hold, teeth gritting down on the troubles that long to pass through them-- “instead of to right the wrongs that have been done.”

His brows lift, and you do not imagine the offer in his eyes, the one that says you would only need to breathe the word, and he would raise his own blade in your honor. “To you?”

Your tongue would tie itself in knots if it could. “Among many.”

“I understand.” His hand squeezes yours so gently, as if you were a thing that could break, a glass woman cradled in his palms. That is a thing these lords do not understand; glass may be delicate once blown thread-thin, but it is first forged in fire, born at a temperature that would char flesh. “Perhaps, though, when you are done...”

It feels cruel to reject him, a man that loves the lady you could have been, but it is crueler still to give him hope where there is little to spare.

“Perhaps,” you say, stilted. It is too mild an answer for the passion in his eyes, but you learned long ago that fate’s whims could not be foreseen by any mortal heart. “But please, my lord. Do not wait for me.”

“It will be hard not to, my lady, for a woman like you is not easily found. However--” he lets out a raw chuckle-- “I do know what love sounds like when I hear it, and it...does not warm your voice when we speak.”

“I...”

Shuuka holds up one hand, chagrined, the other still wrapped in yours. “You owe me no explanation. I only mean to wish you well.”

He lifts your hand to his lips, laying a soft kiss to its back. “May God go with you, my lady. I pray you will not forget your loyal servant in your trials.”

“I...will not,” you breathe, wishing you might be the girl that could love this man. You cannot, you cannot, but oh, how much easier your road would be if you did. “Thank you.”

“Well,” Mitsuhide hums, smile hung awkwardly. “He seems nice!”

Zen nods, pink looming just under the apples of his cheeks. “A good, ah, potential ally.”

Shirayuki stares.

“You two,” Kiki starts, every syllable so overflowing with derision they practically leak, “are ridiculous.”

Obi looks fit to bursting as well-- at least, if the state of his twitching mouth is anything to go by-- but before he can get one word in edgewise, Izana clears his throat.

“Now that this little interlude is complete,” he drawls, casting a wary glance over the table. “I expect that we can move on?”

“No, wait, I’m sorry!” Shirayuki bursts out breathlessly. “Just--” she glances at Obi, squirming under the question in his eyes-- “just one more thing. I promise.”

Izana settles back in his chair, brows raised. “Oh no, by all means. Color me...” His mouth curves into a smirk that would cause a cleverer woman to reconsider. “...Intrigued.”

Your neck aches; beneath your veil, your hair lies heavy on your scalp, pinned and tied to within an inch of its life. There is no more of it than usual, you are sure, but it weighs on you now, a fetter meant to hobble your steps. A shackle meant to drag you down, to halt your progress forward. Perhaps that is always what it was meant to be.

A proper lady would not remove her covering until she was safely ensconced in her chambers; such manners had been pressed upon you since your first courses, first by your nurse and then again by your father. Modesty was a woman’s shield, and you clung to it then as if it could protect you, afraid of what might happen to you without it. No, afraid of who you might be.

But you are no fine lady, not by anything but birth. Such trappings were ripped from your hands, and now--

Now you are Lynet, alchemist and arcanist, and you keep nothing that will not serve you. Your fingers wedge beneath the fine linen, pins falling to your feet as you work them free. Everything about Laxdo may squeeze you, trying to fit you back in the mold your father made, but you will not, not ever again.

It may have been years since you last stepped in Laxdo’s halls, but this past week has made it something like a home, your feet carrying you with ease through the twisting corridors. A different answer but a moment ago and these would have been yours, your home in truth, but to stay here, to forget the power that you tamed with your own two hands and become nothing more than Shuuka’s wife--

It’s unthinkable. A life not meant for you. Though your sister would like it fine enough.

Your feet stutter beneath you, breath caught tight in your chest. Who are you to say what she would want, when you--

You shake yourself. This guilt won’t serve either, not if you let it hold you in place. Your gaze lifts, and finally you see where your industrious feet have brought you: Beaumains’ door.

It was inevitable that they would; your own chamber is on the same hall, mere steps away. But you had not meant to come here, to linger, save that-- that you had, for he has been on your mind since he delivered you to the dais, since Arturius had him sent from it to the revelry below. His voice has thrummed beneath your veins since you looked across the hall and saw him missing from the tables below, your mind turning over every word he spoke this night to see if his disappearance is merely a missing piece to a puzzle you have already solved. But no solutions have appeared before you, and now--

Now you stand here, head bare at his threshold, wondering whether you will be welcome.

You hand raises, hesitating above the grain. You could leave now, and no one would ever know. But if you did, if you simply left with no word, and found him gone on the morrow...

You knock twice. Then thrice. There is not a whisper from the other side of the door. You know better than to assume that means there is no man, not such a one as Beaumains.

“Beaumains,” you murmur, palm pressed flat against the wood. “Beaumains, if you are there...”

Your lips press to a thin line. You had not planned this, planned any of it, and your words will not come. You do not even know which ones you speak if they would.

Your forehead rests against the door, the ridges of its grain digging into your skin. “If you are there, I am here.”

There is no answer but silence.

“Goodnight,” you say finally. “I will...” You hesitate, breath catching in your chest. “I will see you on the morrow.”

Izana, at least, is happy to move on.

“If you have spells to prepare,” he offers graciously, “you may do so now, before we start the morning.”

Kiki raises an imperious brow. “I take it we’ll be doing combat, then?”

With a beatific smile, Izana informs her, “You may prepare for any eventuality you see fit.”

“Yeah.” Zen sighs, flipping to his spell list. “Combat.”

Shirayuki shuffles through her index cards, chewing on her cheek. Next to her Obi has affected a casual slouch, arm thrown haphazardly over his chair back and legs stretching well onto Zen’s side of the table. He doesn’t seem stressed, not like how she feels sitting in the splash zone of of their high stakes game of I’m Not Touching You during this fantasy field trip.

Her phone slides into her hand easier than it ever has, thumb sliding surreptitiously across the keyboard. Are you okay?

Her teeth grit down as soon as it’s sent, regret bitter on her tongue. It’s a stupid thing to ask; a feeling that grows when she watches him work his phone out of his pocket, eyebrows lifting as he reads.

His mouth curls into a satisfied smirk. peachy keen

Are you sure? Shirayuki peeks up from her cards, casting a subtle glance toward the end of the table. Izana’s bowed behind the screen, pen gracefully curving over page-- notes. He’s taking notes. I wanted to make sure Zen isn’t scaring you off.

lol impossible

A breath hisses out her nose, fingers tightening around the case. Leave it to Obi to make this into a joke. He’s really not a bad guy, I promise. I don’t know why he’s choosing to act like one.

A smothered noise hiccups out beside her, too loud in the room’s silence. Four heads bob up, three blond and one brown, and Obi smooths the noise out into a cough, a gentle clearing of his throat.

“Dorito,” he says with a tight wheeze, mouth twitching. “Musta gone down the wrong pipe.”

“Ah,” Izana hums, his eyes narrowing. “Of course.”

Zen, however, frowns. “We have Doritos?”

Obi’s mouth stretches into a smile. “You did.”

“How--?”

“Are we done with preparations, then?” Izana asks smoothly, settling back in his chair. “Should we continue...?”

“Ah, no!” Zen grimaces, ducking his head. “Just-- another minute.”

i got a good idea, Obi texts once. heads are down. but don worry im not going newere His teeth flash as he sends, jus had 2 take care f s/t

She glances up, and his grin is there to greet her, only growing wider when he reads the question in her eyes.

“Don’t worry, my lady,” he murmurs, shifting close enough for the words to ghost over her cheek. “Trust me.”

You wake to hue and cry, to chaos in the halls. A lord’s daughter might lay abed still, waiting for her maids to fetch her, but you were the Lady of Castle Perilous; when Morgaine comes to fetch you, you are already dressed, tucking the last tresses of red beneath your coif. She blinks, those midnight-dark eyes going wide before her expression settles into something far more grim, something more resigned than surprise.

“Beaumains isn’t in his chamber,” she tells you, no cushion in her words, only the bruising impact of the truth. “We suspect he never made it back to it.”

Your breath catches in your chest, struggling against its cage. “That can’t be true. Last night I...”

Spoke to his door, with not a single sign of him within.

“When the maid came to tend his hearth this morning, his cot was undisturbed and the fire burnt down to embers.” Morgaine fixes you with a steady gaze, braced as a man about to take a blow. “We mean to look for him.”

You snatch your cloak from where it hangs, winding it about your shoulders. “Then let us go. If he has been taken, then--”

“I suspect he has been taken by naught by stupidity, the same as any man,” the princess grouses, falling into step beside you as you hurry down the steps to the yard. “My brother wounded his pride, and he sought to restore it. Or at least commit some feat to let it scab cleanly.”

It rankles how much each word rings true. You had no brothers at Castle Perilous, but men you had in spades, and every one fool enough to put himself in mortal peril to salve his pride. “Let us hope you are wrong?”

Morgaine lets out a rasping laugh. “You prefer him to be in the hands of the enemy, then?”

“Rather than his own stupidity?” you ask, breathless, waiting for the yard’s door to open. “Always.”

When they do, your heart stops, stuttering right up into your throat.

“Alas.” The word hisses through Morgaine’s smile. “You are destined to be disappointed.”

Beaumains sits in the yard, perched merrily atop a cart drawn into the middle of it. You cannot, from this angle, divine what it is filled with, only that it is solid enough to hold him and his ego. Temper climbs up your neck, as choking as any ivy; to think, you worried about his heart enough to trouble your own, and now he sits here as if naught but a moment has passed from the night into the evening, as if this were but yet another day he spent in your company.

Oh, how you could climb that cart yourself to give him a piece of your mind. You do not-- would not, before all these men of Laxdo-- but the temptation lashes yours soles as thoroughly as any devil.

“Beaumains.” Arturius marches forth from the crowd, wrath crackling in the air as he walks. “What is the meaning of this? We awake to you missing, and now--?”

“So I heard.” His smile shines in the morning sun, just as brightly as his horns. “I was here, of course. Waiting.”

The Prince of the Angles flushes crimson, the whole of his frame shaking. “Then why would you not--?”

“For a lark.” His teeth flash; fitting since he wields his words like a blade. “Though I did leave last night. You see, something bothered me, and not just your manners.”

“Demon--”

“Devil,” Beaumains corrects, as fastidious as any tutor. “And you see, all this celebrating, it didn’t make sense. Not when we hadn’t solved who cursed our friend here.”

He holds one dark, clawed hand out to where Shuuka stands, gaping. “Me? But I thought--?”

“You know as well as any that we have been searching tirelessly,” Arturius snaps, temper well and truly frayed. “And now you come to mock us for it? Is it a fight you ask for? Is that what you desire? For I am happy to give it to you, if you do not--”

“I want no fight,” Beaumains scoffs. “I want results. And so...”

With a desultory kick, the back of the cart falls open, and out of it--

Ah, and out of it pours forth a mound of bodies.

“And so,” he continues with relish, “I got some.”

“You can’t do that,” Zen murmurs, but it’s not in anger. No, that’s shock that slackens his jaw, and with the number of tokens Obi just dropped on the map, it’s working on Shirayuki too. “That’s not-- he can’t do that, can he?”

“He just did,” Izana replies, somehow both weary and amused at the same time.

“But...” Zen stares at them, more than a dozen tokens sprawled over the grid. “How.”

Obi grins. “Skill.”

Izana casts him a dark, yet exhausted, glance. “He rolled very, very well.”

Shuuka skirts nearer, his face pale with shock. “Those are the men who sold us firewood. The very same you pulled from our hearths.”

“That they are.” Beaumains sits back on the cart; now that you can see inside it you see his seat is not a crate, as you had assumed, but two bodies stacked atop each other, the blood drying around their mouths and necks. “Or at least that’s what I was hoping, Master, since otherwise I’d have made a mortifying mistake indeed.”

Arturius has not moved, instead staring down at the hand that laid at his feet, at the twisted grimace the deceased’s face has twisted into. “You did this alone? With no other man to help you?”

“I surely did,” the devil sing-songs, his grin honing to a point. “Could you find me such a one, daring enough to help on a night so dark as the last?”

The prince’s jaw sets hard as granite, but his eyes belie his sternness, shining with heady mix of admiration and something that savors strongly of jealousy. “Well,” he grits out, shoulders jerking towards his ears. “I cannot fault you your skill, devil, but now there is no chance of us learning how or why this deed came to be done.”

Beaumains scoffs, enjoying every moment he sits above the Prince of all the Angles. “Have a little faith, O Master Mine. Before they met the fates they bought with their cursed coin, I asked them what man or beast compelled them to act. And they told me--” his eyes flash with triumph-- “a man in red.”

There is no chance for you to stifle your gasp, not when you see that armor shining before you, crimson in candlelight. Not when even now, that spiked gauntlet reaches toward you--

“Lynet?” Morgaine’s grasp brings you back to yourself, to the moment you inhabit. “Are you well?”

“Fine, fine,” you assure her. “It is only--”

That you may know who this enemy of Laxdo is. That you yourself have come to see him vanquished, but yet--

You cannot speak of it. Not even if you wished.

“You may thank me at your leisure, sirrah,” Beaumain crows, getting to his feet. Even now your stomach roils as you look, the blood nothing more than a black sheen on his boots. “I am ever at your--” he leaps, landing on the ground before Arturius’s gaze. “At your service.”

And with a singular, extravagant bow, Beaumains tips face first into the cobbles.

“Wait.” Shirayuki blinks down at the toppled figure, resting on a spray of tokens, right next to a white-painted 1. “What just happened?”

“Beaumains--” Izana’s mouth twitches at a corner-- “had but a single hit point left.”

Long fingers pluck the die from its resting place among the bodies, as if quick reflexes could keep them all from seeing the rock Obi just dropped. He glowers down at it-- all black and golden and glimmering, just like him-- and shoves it back into his bag. “And glass ankles, apparently.”

A low, heady laugh rolls across the table, Kiki kicking up her feet with a smirk. “This is why we invest in CON.”

Obi scoffs. “Please, I made it out with HP to spare.”

“Yeah,” she says, “one.”

“Well,” he grumbles, “it was enough, wasn’t it?”

You stoop to where Beaumains sits, propped up by the stable’s post and Bedwyr’s shoulder, hand raised to heal--

“Please.” Bedwyr’s impressive hand gently guides yours away, his smile tight and concerned. “You must save your strength, my lady.”

“I just awoke, sir,” you remind him, mouth pulled into an irritated line. “I am as fresh as I shall ever be.”

The knight cants his head, though you know him too well to believe he might fully acquiesce to you. “I know that well enough. But it is your talent we will need, should any challenges arise before day’s end. And this is entirely within my--”

“No, no.” Beaumains stirs at his side, eyes sliding open to relieve the unrelenting shadow of his face. “Let the pretty lady lay her hands on me, paladin. Her touch is far softer than yours.”

Ah, it would have been best for him not to say such things before the whole of Castle Laxdo. Or at least, not in front of its lord. The weight of his gaze already presses heavy on your back, growing only more weighty as Beaumains sears a bleary line up you with his gaze.

He’s far to gone to keep it steady; already it wanders, tracing Bedwyr’s lines as well, and--

“Wait, no, never mind,” he slurs, squinting up at that giant of a man. “You’ll do too, sir, if you’re so eager to put your hand--”

Bedwyr presses a palm to the center of Beaumain’s forehead, and with an authority you know can only come from the Lord in Heaven, he intones, “SLEEP.”

“You know, big guy,” Obi drawls, grin already stretching from ear to ear. “I’m pretty sure paladins don’t get those spells. And fighters definitely don’t.”

Mitsuhide glances up from his sheet, straight at Izana.

He smirks. “I’ll allow it.”

Beaumains sleeps the slumber of the ensorcelled. That is, complete and utterly quiet.

Bedwyr peered down, and with a nod of his head, declares, “That’s much better.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #dungeons & dragons au #my fic #ans #listen i know i said ONE chapter until the end of this arc #but like #TECHNCIALLY next chapter is gonna be the OOC wrap up for this arc #the session is complete though!#fans of this fic may REJOICE #you have two updated planned over the next two months too #Ch 9 is already in progress #and provided it does not grow out of proportion...should be complete by mid-september #and there's another update planned for late october that should hopefully kick off next arc #and perhaps...a POV CHANGE >:3c

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realtacuardach · 3 years ago

Text

Deception and Perception

“Con-artist” entry for Obiyuki Bingo 2021, hosted by @snowwhite-andtheknight

I hope you enjoy!

~~~

Leaning nearly double on the folding chair, Shirayuki clutched her ankle and moaned lowly under her breath as the security guard closed the door behind him. His footsteps echoed as he walked down the hallway to the main office, the steady rhythm slowly fading away to nothing. A half-minute more ticked by on her watch, and Shirayuki straightened up. Quickly getting to her feet, she walked over to the filing cabinets stacked against the wall and pulled fruitlessly on one of the handles. It didn’t come as any surprise that the research had been locked up, but she allowed herself a small curse of frustration before extracting a lockpick from her pocket.

There has to be an easier way to get information, she internally muttered to herself as she got to work.

But there wasn’t, she’d already tried.

When the progress on her laboratory’s latest research had slowed down, Shirayuki initially filed it away as one of the typical delays and frustrations of being a researcher. But months had passed, and they weren’t getting any further in their findings - meanwhile, the neighboring lab from Bergatt Enterprises, who had piggy-backed on their research for a time, was making leaps and bounds.

She had asked to see their results, to understand where she might have been making mistakes. In response, they had erected swift, impenetrable walls, stating that their findings were their intellectual property. A bitter pill to swallow, but their offering a thorn bramble when she’d offered an olive branch in the past was just going to have to be a lesson to keep her guard up better in future.

But when she’d returned to her own lab, intent on looking at her earlier notes and samples to start over from scratch, she’d found that her notes were gone. Someone had taken them.

The filing cabinet clicked open, and she shoved the lockpick in her pocket before reaching into the drawer, fingers flying over the tops of the file folders.

She hadn’t wanted to believe that the other lab would stoop to theft or sabotage, but when the lab assistant who’d started work two weeks before their collaboration with Bergatt stopped showing up with no explanation two days after it had ended, she’d had suspicions. Suspicions that were confirmed, at least in her mind, when she’d seen that same lab assistant in the lobby of Bergatt Enterprises when she’d first approached them and been shut down. Calling after the woman had been an impulse, but also a mistake. The faux lab assistance had scurried deep behind the security of ‘limited access’ doors, and Shirayuki had been escorted out.

The guard had rushed her out so quickly that she’d tripped on the threshold, and landing hard on her ankle had hurt but also given her an idea.

The first drawer didn’t have them. Fighting the urge to slam it shut in frustration, Shirayuki instead closed it slowly and started on the next cabinet down. It has to be here, she assured herself, squinting at the papers and forcing herself to keep a steady pace, this is the only place left.

Bergatt Enterprises had four labs within the state; it would have been too much to hope for that they’d have left the research in the first place she’d looked, the facility where she’d seen the spy. But she’d tried anyway.

After a week, she’d gone back, her hair tied back and covered with a bandana to fill out a job application. On the way to fill out the paperwork, she’d walked by a Wet Floor sign and fallen. She’d held her side and groaned, curling around her injury. Frantic to avoid lawsuits, employees had ushered her into a makeshift nurse’s office and left there for a few minutes. Moving quickly, she’d managed to get into the lab offices, only to find the filing cabinets were only for show and were disappointingly empty.

The paper in the file folder at the back of the cabinet caught on her fingers, the paper crumpled and off-color compared to the pristine contents of the other files. Her breath catching, she pulled the paper out and nearly cried with relief. Found you, she grinned, holding the paper tight to her chest. Now I just have to-

Two sets of footsteps were coming closer down the hallway. Shirayuki just managed to keep from slamming the drawer shut, instead smoothly closing it and darting back to the chair. Wadding her notes into a square and shoving it down into her blouse, she drew her jacket around her before bending down to resume the slow massaging of her ankle.

The security guard returned, closely followed by a man who looked distressingly official. Next to the guard with his ill-fitting button-up and baggy slacks, the new man had an air more polished and somehow dangerous, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. “This is the lady?” He asked, tucking his badge into his suit jacket.

“Yes, sir.” The guard glared at Shirayuki. “Procedure said to call you in if we had anything....suspicious happen. We’ve had a lot of attempted break-ins.”

“Have you?” Behind his sunglasses, the new man’s eyebrows raised, the skin pulling taut around a scar over his left eye. “And not been able to catch them yet? At all?”

The security guard puffed up indignantly. “I caught her.”

“Hmm,” the other man stepped around the desk where Shirayuki’s chair had been situated and sat down on a chair behind it. “And you’re sure this girl is some kind of criminal mastermind?” He snorted. “I can see why you had to call me in.”

Flushing red, the guard drew himself up, but got waved off. “Easy, easy. I’m not saying you’re wrong.” The well-dressed man leaned forward, Shirayuki’s breath catching as he moved closer, smooth and sinuous and unpredictable. She stared steadily back, praying he couldn’t hear her heart pounding or the paper crinkling as she struggled to keep her composure. The man smirked at her, then leaned back in his chair. “You can go,” he told the guard.

“What?” The guard hitched his belt indignantly. “Shouldn’t we both-?”

The suited man’s lips twisted into an irritated smirk. “You think I can’t handle one little girl?”

Shirayuki focused on her fake ankle pain to keep from bristling and giving herself away.

“Well, no,” the guard stuttered.

“If it makes you feel better,” the man waved towards the door, “you can wait outside. But this is my case now.”

The two men stared at each other for an agonizing few moments before the guard stepped back. “Okay, Mr. Nanaki.”

Nanaki smiled, his smile full of teeth and thinly veiled malice. “Ah, ah, ah. Agent Nanaki.” He pulled out a badge with a smooth flourish. Shirayuki caught a glimpse of “Internal” and “Security” before the badge was returned to the jacket. Nanaki reached out his hand towards the guard, palm up, and beckoned with his fingers. The guard, his expression simultaneously flustered and cowed, stepped forward and pulled out a manila folder that he’d been carrying between his arm and stomach. He handed it to the agent.

‘Thank you,” the agent snarked smoothly. “I’ll call if you’re needed.”

His tone indicated that the guard wouldn’t be, and the guard stomped out..

Agent Nanaki opened the manila folder, flipping through the pages, his head moving ever so slightly from side to side as he read. Silence grew thick between them, and Shirayuki’s heart pounded in her ears. She took a silent deep breath and licked her dry lips. “So…”

The agent lifted his head to look at her. “Yes?”

Shirayuki gritted her teeth. “Can I leave?”

Clicking his tongue, the agent’s smirk that had previously been twisted with irritation smoothed out into amusement. “Come on, Miss. We both know you’re smarter than that.”

“Excuse me.”

He turned a page and whistled. “Never mind, maybe not. They got camera footage of you that time.”

“What?”

“It’s true.” He picked up a grainy picture of a figure with shoulder-length hair lingering near an office door. “Not the most revealing angle, but these aren’t the most sophisticated cameras.”

Shirayuki just managed to keep from folding her arms; this man was incredibly irritating. She squinted at the photo - even though it was grainy, she could just see the loose sandal strap she’d used as an excuse to linger behind from the group. “I can’t believe you think that’s me,” she sighed. “It doesn’t look anything like me.”

The agent sighed and scratched his forehead. “Okay, so we’ll play it that way.” He turned all the papers over until he reached the first page, which he extracted. “Incident one, main campus. Young woman with red hair comes in for an interview. Falls down in the lobby, sustains injuries, risks suing the company. They leave her alone to try and get her medical attention - and a lawyer.” His mouth quirked. “By the time they get back, the young lady has collapsed by the filing cabinets, saying she’d hit her head.” He flipped the page. “But when they turn around, she manages to sneak off. And the name used to secure the interview was fake.”

Well, she could have hardly used her own name. “I hope the poor woman got help.”

“Hmm.” He rifled through the next few pages before pointing at a new sheet. “Incident two, east campus. Another young woman, also with red hair, was walking out by the storage house. Some guy with a cart ran into her and knocked her over. She got rushed inside, reported symptoms of concussion.” He snorted. “They left her alone for a few minutes to get a glass of water, came back to find an empty room with a cabinet wide open with a safety pin jammed in the lock.”

“Really?” Shirayuki raised an eyebrow in interest. She’d brought a bobby pin along, but it had gotten lost when she’d mistimed her footing to collide with the stockroom employee. She’d been lucky she hadn’t gotten a concussion; less lucky that she’d had to resort to using a safety pin she found on the top of the cabinet. “I didn’t know you could open locks with a safety pin.”

“You really can’t,” the agent looked down at his paper. “I think the lady just yanked it open at some point - the cabinet locks are pretty weak.”

Shirayuki begged to differ, she had nearly splintered all her fingernails in her haste to open the drawer.

Agent Nanaki looked at her for a moment, then shook his head. “You’re still - okay, incident three, south campus. A young woman, again with red hair, joins a group of students to tour the labs. She accidentally,” he smirked, “broke the strap of a sandal and stayed behind to fix it. Tour guide goes back to check on the young lady, but she’s vanished. Meanwhile,” he drawled, “ someone managed to jimmy open a door to the main lab, off-limits to the tour, and snuck in.” He tapped the grainy picture. “Sure this isn’t ringing any bells?”

Shirayuki shook her head. “I’m sorry, but no.”

The agent snorted. “And that brings us to today. Young woman, with red hair,” he shut the manila folder and made a sweeping gesture towards her head, “somehow gets lost in the north campus and twists her ankle. She gets helped to a room, but then the rent-a-cop gets suspicious and calls in the cavalry.” He leaned forward. “Because even he can tell this can’t be a coincidence.”

Swallowing back her anxiety, Shirayuki shrugged. “I couldn’t say about the other times, but this time is certainly a coincidence.”

“Really?”

“Hair like this,” she waved a hand around her crown, “stands out like a sore thumb. Would I really be so dumb as to not conceal it - if I was the person you are thinking of?”

Agent Nanaki leaned back in his chair, springs squeaking, and barked a laugh. “Ah, a double bluff, Miss? Not too shabby.”

She couldn’t tell whether it was pleased pride or irritated frustration that was filling her chest at that laugh, but she chose to ignore the sensation. “If that’s really all you think you have that points to me, I’ll be going. I need to ice this ankle.”

“Oh.” Nanaki got up and walked around the desk in front of her chair, before sitting on the edge of the desk. “No, Miss. That’s all they have on you.” He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a small notebook. He flipped open the cover, and Shirayuki could see pages filled with cramped writing. “This,” he licked his thumb and turned another page, “is what I have on you.”

“Oh?” Shirayuki was having a little trouble breathing, although where that was from the revelation of this knowledge or the awareness of how close the agent was standing, she wasn’t sure.

Nanaki took off his sunglasses and tucked them into the collar of his shirt. He looked into her eyes, and she was captivated by warm amber. Leaning forward, his smirk grew as he closed the distance between their faces. Shirayuki swallowed as she felt herself drifting into his eyes. “Uh, what are you doing?”

“Eyes are the windows of the soul,” he drawled smoothly. “Trying to see what I can see.”

Shirayuki’s fingers curled on her lap as she looked into his eyes. “And what do you see?”

“Hmm.” He leaned closer, and she felt her hips tilt her towards him. His tongue brushed his lips - and then he licked his thumb and turned another page in his notebook. “Name: Shirayuki Leon, has doctorate in biology specializing in medicine and botany. First studied in Tanbarun before moving to Clarines three years ago. Been making a real splash in the science scene. Working under Garrack Gazelt, has published two-” He flipped a page. “-three papers in various academic journals.”

Shirayuki took a deep breath, striving for calm. “Sounds interesting.”

“I thought so.” He smirked harder. “Recently working on the same research that Bergatt has been focusing on for the past few months.”

“Ah.” Her fingers shook a little under his scrutiny.

“Research that really picked up,” he continued, “once Bergatt’s current head researcher came from your labs with some classified notes, and possibly after sabotaging your work.”

“I knew it!” Shirayuki cried, and then shrunk back. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” The agent smiled broadly. “Gotcha, Miss.”

Shirayuki slumped back in her chair, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “Yeah, you got me.” She sighed. “Now what?”

“Well…” Nanaki’s watch chime and he looked at it. “Time for us to leave, I think.” He stood up. “Will you come quietly, or do I need to use handcuffs?”

She sighed. “You don’t need handcuffs.”

The agent craned his neck towards the door, sliding his sunglasses back on. “After you, Miss.”

Shirayuki’s feet dragged as she made her way to the door. The agent moved around behind her, his arm grazing her side as he reached to turn the doorknob, and she shivered. Nanaki’s hand encircled her wrist as the two stepped out into the hallway, and the guard roused himself from his half-asleep position against the wall.

“I’m taking the suspect into custody,” the agent snapped, pulling lightly on Shirayuki’s arm. “I expect a full report sent to the department by noon tomorrow.”

The two briskly made their way down the hallways. “Good thing you’re not actually injured,” Nanaki mused as they walked through the parking lot, “otherwise we might not make it in time.”

“You’re in that much of a hurry to arrest me?”

“No.” The agent opened the passenger side door - funny, she’d expected to be put in the back - and indicated for her to get inside. “But time is not on our side.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he leaned in, “the actual agent should be here any minute.”

And with that shocking statement, he closed the door.

“The real agent?” Shirayuki exclaimed as the fake agent slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

“Yeah.” He swore under his breath. “Duck down, he’s pulling in now.” Shirayuki could hear the sounds of a door opening and closing, although the sound grew smaller as Nanaki stepped on the gas.

“What in the world-”

“You can sit up now, Doc,” the man grinned, tossing his sunglasses to the back as they sped away from the parking lot. He flexed his shoulders underneath his jacket. “Can’t wait to get out of this monkey suit.”

Shirayuki stilled. The humor and wry tone that had been lingering beneath his officious demeanor was in full force now, and his grin was rakish.

“Who are you?”

“I have many names,” he smirked, eyebrows wiggling, “but mostly I go by Obi. And I think we have a common enemy. I’ve been trying to take down the Bergatts myself for a while now.”

“Okay, Obi,” she tried, and his grin grew. “Now what?”

“Well, first,” Obi answered, “we stash away that research you have hiding in your shirt.” Shirayuki blushed, her hand going to her blouse. “And after that, well, that’s up to you. I figured we could get you someplace safe until things cool down a little. Or-”

"Or?"

“I like the way you work, Doc,” he smirked, “and I think we can bring the Bergatts down a lot faster if we work together. You bring the science smarts, and I bring the infiltration and deception skills. I teach you, you teach me.” Keeping his left hand on the wheel as he continued driving, he raised up his right hand towards her. “What do you say? Partners?”

This was crazy.

Shirayuki smirked back and clasped his hand with one of her own. “Partners.”

#obiyukibingo21 #ans #Akagami no Shirayukihime #obiyuki #con-artist au

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