#now you can all see that obi had some growth before the one with suzu

[sabraeal]

Oh god, how could I forget? *slams hands on table* OBI AND SHIRAYUKI COME OUT TO EACH OTHER, WFB EDITION

[Read on AO3]

There's a surreality that clings to the corners of her night, a certain strangeness that fuzzes the edges like one of Kiki's filters. If Shirayuki's truthful with herself-- which she tries to be-- the whole weekend has been like this, like her body has been wrapped in bubble-wrap, a buffer between her and Tanbarun to keep it from hurting her again. And then for one moment, cheap beer had sloshed against her finger and she thought, I can handle this, it won't beat me, I won't flinch thinking of home forever.

Hard to believe that was only a few hours ago, when now the only thing keeping her upright is the door at her back. That once again, Raj has muted her world. Not on purpose, not like last time; oh no, it's his honesty that wounds, and she can't hate him for it, but she can't forgive either, and he--

Ah, well, maybe Obi has a point. Some things, he's said, his sharp smile strained from holding it so wide, belong right where they're buried.

Her legs don't tremble as she stands, but the ground's so unsteady beneath her feet it makes no difference. Her world pitches with every step across the vintage hardwood, a struggle to stay upright until her world tips at it edges, landing her flat on the mattress. A nice one, firmer and more supportive than the one back in her dorm, even if she had spent thirty dollars layering enough toppers on it to make as nice as a hotel. It would be easy to slip into sleep now, to let this day be drowned out by dreams with a better narrative structure than real life.

But she can't. Not when her mind is racing still, running through Raj's confession like a hamster on a wheel, churning it over and over until she's unmoored. Her body may physically remain in this room, but she no longer sees the crown molding around the ceiling or french doors to the balcony-- instead she witnesses a night three months behind her, every detail blown to life-size.

Hey, Red. His eyes were glazed, she remembers that. From drinking, she'd thought; just a brother three sheets to the wind, press-ganged into one last delivery that kept him from the keg. Raj said he wanted you to have this.

The man doesn't even blink at his lie, just holds out the cup the way anyone would; two lives destroyed with as much ease as hands touch. Doesn't bother to stay either, the way a real villain would, ready to gloat over his dastardly plans. No, evil occurs without even a flinch, unremarkable in its ordinariness. That she believed it all is a simple mistake, one that anyone could have fallen for--

But Obi hadn't. He took one look at that man and called him a shark, laughed at how no one had seen it when blood chummed in his wake. And if he could, then why, why hadn't she?

If she'd only known, then it wouldn't have been Raj in Kino's exposé, and it wouldn't have been Shenezard lawyers that sat across the table from her, explaining to her in terrifying detail the penalties for slander and libel. No, they would be sitting beside her, coaching her through her testimony, making sure that she knew just where to twist the knife. Anything to make sure the campus-- and their investors-- knew that they were washing their hands of this criminal, the frat severing ties with the brother whose actions threatened their charter. It wouldn't have been easy, but she could have stayed, and she--

She never would have met Zen. Or Kiki, or Mitsuhide. Not even Obi, unless there was a dean as dedicated to meddling with Shenezards as much as Wisterias. Shirayuki would still be in her grief single, struggling to get out of bed as her single friend rode her trauma to a post-graduate position.

Her thoughts race, one what-if chasing another, a glut of almosts poised to flood her with second guesses, castigating her for not thinking so clearly, so perfectly in the moment--

It’s-- it’s too much.

This is hardly the first time she’s flirted with a panic attack, but to have one here, pressed in by the walls of the house where it all happened--

Shirayuki gets up. Fresh air. That’s what she needs. A change of scenery. A possibility of escape. Sure, she’s on the second floor, but that’s never stopped her before. Her legs won’t tremble, but her hands do as they reach out for her cardigan, the wool snagging on her nails before she manages to wrangle it around her shoulders.

The night is bracing when she steps into it, not windy, but cold, the air carrying more winter than she expects. They’d left snow behind in Clarines, but Tanbarun’s only been brisk, cushioned by the Sound to the south. Sea effect, that’s what it’s called.

“So.” She jumps, and oh, there’s Obi right there, lounging on his own balcony, blanket framing his grin. “Did catharsis live up to the hype or whatever?”

“Oh.” Had it really only been this morning when she stood in the library, preaching to him about narrative closure? When she’d called this whole thing the return of the hero? “I don’t think-- I mean, I wasn’t--”

“Hold up, Doc.” His blanket slumps to his shoulders, hands flying up between them. “You don’t need to tell me shit. Just...you’re feeling better, right?”

“I...” am about to have a panic attack, she nearly says, but even as she lines up the words to be dismissed-- he doesn’t need to be worrying about her, not over something like this-- she finds they’re not longer true. “...I am. Or at least I will be. Just...need a few minutes I think.”

He shrugs. “Take ‘em. I’m not going anywhere.”

For once, she believes it. “I’m sorry. I should have told you about...all this. What happened here before--”

“Hey, hey.” The blanket unfurls as he stands, caught only by a quick clasp of his hand. “This whole thing was your secret to keep. You didn’t owe me anything.”

“But you walked into all this blind.” She sighs, breath misting into the night. “If I’d told you...”

“I’d be here anyway. Would I like to have known?” He scrapes out a laugh, jostling her elbow on the rail. “Yeah, sure. But it wouldn’t have changed anything? Nah.”

“R-really?” She blinks, the cold stinging her eyes. “But why...?”

“Because you asked, didn’t you?” There’s a sharpness to his smile, but that edge is pointed inward, pressing just hard enough draw blood. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Doc, but people don’t tend to expect a lot from me. No one but...”

You. He doesn’t say it, but it rings in the air between them, warming it more than any breeze.

“If you want to let me in on the backstory next time, I won’t stop you though.” His eyes glitter gold in the moonlight, like lights in a distant window. “Beats wondering why you jumped every time you heard a door slam in this place.”

“O-oh!” It hadn’t even crossed her mind that anyone would notice, let alone-- “S-sorry. To make you worry. What did you think--?”

“Doc, I’m gonna be real.” His chin slants down, eyes fixing on her from their corners. “I tried real hard not to think anything at all.”

Shirayuki blinks. “Even though...?”

His shoulders don’t so much shrug as fence him in, pickets right up by his ears. “I’ve seen some stuff. I just had to hope that none of it happened to you.”

He can’t want her to pry, but Obi talks about himself so little, and his past even less; she can’t help but murmur, “Stuff?”

His breath plumes over the rail, spinning and spiraling, each second of his sigh eddying into the next. “Let’s just put it this way: if it’s been me in your shoes tonight, I would have had to think a lot harder before I did the right thing. Would have gotten there eventually, but...”

This time he does shrug, too innocent for his implication. “Kino may not exactly be nice, but that doesn’t mean she deserves to be--”

“No one deserves that.” There’s not much Obi’s serious about, but he is for this, no hint of humor clinging to his mouth or hiding behind his eyes. “Preaching to the choir. But some people need a taste of their own medicine, and I’m not above letting them take a sip.”

“Obi.”

“So to speak, of course.” One hand lazily lifts from the rail, matching the hook of his smirk. “I’m not as good a person as you, Doc.”

“I don’t know about that,” she huffs, folding her cardigan tighter over her chest. “You just don’t know her like I do. When we were in high school...”

We were friends. That’s what she wants to say, at least, but it sits sour on her tongue, aging as well as milk. They’d been on the same team, sure, but when it’d come to those sleepovers, all the seniors gossiping behind their hands--

Obi’s smile softens. “Taking off some real vintage rose-colored glasses?”

“Ah, no.” She shakes her head. “More like...seeing past an old crush.”

“Oh.” It’s strange to be so close to a smile like his as it collapses, like watching one of Oma’s souffles deflate from Opa taking them out too soon . “Huh. I...hm.”

It takes a moment for her head to catch up with her mouth, to realize what she’s said, and-- “Ah, I mean...you knew that right? That I...?”

“Haah, well--” he scrubs sheepishly at his scruff, the bristle of his hair sticking up every which way-- “Kino did day something like that, but I wasn’t sure if I...er...should take that with a grain of salt...”

“She knew?” Her voice splits to shrill before she can catch its frantic fray. “I mean, I just-- that doesn’t matter. I thought you would already know, since Kiki...?”

“Yes.” His nod is almost formally stiff, the kind waiters have at the restaurants Zen takes them to. “I did. But thinking Princess is hot is just good taste. I wasn’t sure if you-- if that was a thing, or if you were--?”

“It is.” She can’t see herself, but she feels her cheeks burning, impulse plowing her forward as her courage starts to wear thin. “I am. I mean, I like both. Guys and girls. Always have.”

“Oh.” Stream streams from his lips, his fingers clutches just as pale around the rail. “You just came right out and said it, huh? That’s...good. Ah, I mean...it’s cool?”

His shoulder make a stiff horizon above his back, spine so straight it makes her own ache.

“Is that going to be okay?” It’s strange how soft she speaks, how tentative the tiptoes around her real question. “It’s not going to change anything for you?”

His head snaps up, eyes wild as they meet hers. “What? No-- what? Of course not. It’s just-- fuck, I’m really making a mess out this, huh?-- I’m not just to talking about it. This.”

Obi makes some gesture between them, a waggle of fingers that’s both confident and a call for help, and she-- she blinks. “I wasn’t trying to hide it, if that’s what you were thinking. I just...it never seemed special or anything until other people found out in high school, so I don’t really think about saying anything. If it makes you uncomfortable--”

“No, it’s not--” he gasps, frustrated more flushed than she’s ever seen him-- “I-- Me too.”

Shirayuki stares. “You like girls?”

“No!” His eyes widen. “No, wait, yeah. Obviously. Girls are hot. It’s just-- guys are good too. I mean, hot. For me. Personally.” His fingers pinch at his shoulder. “Ugh, this sounded better in my head.”

“Oh.” Her mouth pulls wide, so much it aches, but in the best way. “You mean you’re bisexual?”

“No! Wait.” His knuckles blanch bone-white where they grip the railing between them. “I mean yes. Bisexual, yeah.”

“Yes?”

“Can you just--” he puts his back to her, waving weakly over his shoulder-- “give me a minute?”

“I...” Shirayuki’s not quite sure what’s going on, but it’s-- it’s good. She knows that much. The sort of good that makes her feel as big as Mitsuhide, like she could wrap them around the world twice over and give it a squeeze. “Yes. Sure?”

“It’s just...” The tension slumps out of his shoulders, leaving a quivering mound of Obi leaning against the balustrade. “I don’t think I’ve ever said that out loud. No where anyone could hear, at least.” He huffs, mist disappearing before it can waft above his shoulders. “It’s weird.”

“But you said it.” She should give him his privacy, let him be unperceived, and yet-- yet she just grins at his back. There’s a warmth in her chest, one her smile can’t control, only hold at bay. “And you said it to me.”

“Don’t read into that!” he yelps, clambering to face her. “It’s not like I meant to-- that you-- ugh, it just never seemed...”

“Welcome?” she offers, threading her hands between his on the rail.

He sighs, too close for steam. “Relevant. But here we are, I guess.”

“Yeah.” She can’t suppress her giggle. “Here we are. Two bi--”

“Cut it out,” he groans, but he can’t hide his laugh beneath it, no matter how much he tries. “It’s fine, I guess. At least now I know I never really had a chance with you.”

She blinks up at him. “What?”

“Well you know...” His grin is far too sly for comfort. “Since you have a thing for blonds.”

“Huh?” Her jaw drops, distorting the sound. “I-- I don’t! I’ve never had any physical preferences whatsoever.”

“Oh, so you don’t know about it.” His grin spreads wider, like a cookie that should have spent more time in the fridge before she let it run wild at 350. “Princess? Chief? This Kino chick? You’re telling me they don’t all have one thing in common?”

It’s with a terrible certainty that she remembers: Pavo’s blond too. A detail she’ll take to her grave now. “Looks don’t matter to me.”

“That’s not what the data says, Doc.” Obi lets loose a whistle that puts every hair up on end. “Bossman better keep you away from the Big Cheese, huh? Who knows what you’ll do.”

She snatches her hands back from the rail. “Keep my hands to myself, clearly.”

“Sure, sure.” He leans back, hips settling against his own balustrade, near where she hunches on hers. The stars are bright above them, the way they only get when it’s cold, like little chips of diamond in velvet. “Bet you’re wishing he was here, huh?”

“Izana?”

“Nah, nah. Funny that’s where your head went though.” His shoulder nudges hers, and she allows herself a glower, as a treat. “I meant Zen. Boyfriends are probably better for this whole trauma thing, instead of...whatever I’m suppose to be.”

She leans back, watching him. “That wasn’t what I was thinking.”

“That’s because you’re too nice,” he tells her, grin not sitting quite right on his lips. “I bet he misses you, you know? We’ve only been here a few days, but it feels like forever. I think I might even miss him snapping at me.”

Shirayuki blinks, the last puzzle piece slipping into place. Guys are good too, for me, Obi had said, just moments ago, and now here he is, conjuring Zen between them. It’s sweet, really. “He’s probably missing us just as much.”

Obi rolls his head across his shoulders to hand-deliver his glare. “Doc, this is where you’re supposed to say you miss him.”

“Oh?” She wasn’t aware there was a script for sharing crushes. “Am I? I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, while you gaze all wistfully up at the stars.” He juts a hand in their direction. “It’s a whole thing with star-crossed lovers.”

Her brow furrows. “We’re not lovers. And if we were, I certainly wouldn’t want to be star-crossed.”

“Well, you’re close enough on both counts. Anyway.” He levers himself up from the rail. “I should get to bed. You too, Doc. All good little scientists need their eight hours.”

“It’s seven to eight, depending on the length of your sleep cycle.” She looks back to meet his amused expression. “But, er, thanks. I will. Goodnight, Obi.”

He hesitates, one hand wrapped around the jamb. “Night, Doc.”

And just like that, he’s gone; just her and a hundred thousand flaming light glinting over her head. Shirayuki takes in a deep breath, letting the chill prickle at her lungs.

“We can do this,” she murmurs, fingers cold when she curls them into her palms. “I mean, what else could go wrong?”

[puffdragongirl]

Burned: Chapter 2

Please be advised that there are graphic descriptions of injuries in this chapter. Proceed with caution!

Not sure if I’ll manage to finish the entry for track 3 before the master post, but here is another very late submission for the soundtrack challenge!

The quiet of the pharmacy is broken by the slam of the door against the wall, and a desperate cry for help.

“Please, we need some help over here!”

Shirayuki and Ryuu rush towards the entry, where a pair of soldiers support the weight of an injured companion. The man is dressed in the distinctive, if blood-spattered garb of a messenger, but apparently his non-combatant status had not mattered to whoever had shot the man full of arrows. As they guide the soldiers towards one of the examining tables, Shirayuki can feel the heat rolling off the man in waves. A quick glance at the fletching of the arrows shows one with the distinctive gold striping made infamous in the pharmacy courtesy of one too many poisoned patients.

Her gaze shifts to Ryuu, whose mouth is already set in a grim line. The arrows lodged in the man’s right arm and torso were worrisome enough on their own, but his chances of survival were slim to none if they didn’t immediately treat him for the poison now running through his veins.

“I’ll get the kera leaf,” Ryuu murmurs as they settle the injured messenger belly-down on a cot. He turns to the hovering soldiers, and gestures for an apprentice to come escort them to the waiting area. “We will do all we can for your friend, but please give us some room.”

Despite the grim circumstances, Shirayuki can’t help the swelling of pride she feels as she watches Ryuu interact with the concerned soldiers. Ever since his conversation with Obi on the snowy ramparts during the winter flu outbreak their first year in Lyrias, Ryuu had pushed himself to be more independent, stepping out of his comfort zone to speak with patients and their families. His hard work paid off, and he is now known as a reliable, if quiet, pharmacist.

“My name is Shirayuki, Sir,” she says to the injured messenger, voice gentle as she lays a hand on his uninjured arm, “You’re safe here in our pharmacy in Wistal, and we will do our best to care for you.” He turns his head on the pillow to look at her, eyes glazed with pain and fever, but looking cognizant. “Could you tell me your name, Sir?”

“Hayata,” he groans, grimacing as the movement of his breath jars the arrows, “I was just carrying a message, on the main path and all.” Tears pool in his eyes until they spill quietly down his cheeks, “I don’t want to die, Miss.”

“Shh…” she soothes, rubbing his shoulder gently, “We’ll take good care of you, Hayata.” As she reassures the man, one of the senior apprentices approaches with a steaming cup, and the familiar scent of the ready-made blends of pain-killing herbs they keep on hand fills the air. She accepts the cup with a quiet thanks, then holds it up to allow the soldier to inspect it. “I have some herbs here that might make you a little sleepy but will ease some of the pain from these injuries. Do you think you can drink some of this for me?”

The man nods gingerly, so she assists him in sipping the brew. Just as she is setting the emptied cup to the side, she hears a sharp curse, followed closely by a clatter from the storage room down the hall. Concerned, she leaves Hayata in the care of an apprentice as he relaxes under the influence of the herbs to investigate the situation. Ryuu had…acquired an extensive repertoire of swear words following an “outing” with Obi, Suzu, and Kirito after his 16th birthday (”A man needs to know swear words, Miss,” Obi had insisted when she protested, “It’s practically a law”), but he rarely used them, especially not while he was on the job. When she arrives, she finds Ryuu hunched over a bench, furiously sorting through a storage drawer. She approaches, opening her mouth to ask what is wrong, but gasps when she catches sight of the drawer.

Dozens of small, black beetles swarm over the stock of kera leaf. She scrambles to the table, joining Ryuu’s mad dash to rescue the precious few leaves left undamaged by the voracious insects. Minutes later, they stare with a silent, shared horror at the remaining stock. There is enough left to help the wounded messenger, and maybe a few more patients if they calculate the dosage precisely each time; but it isn’t nearly enough, especially if the war draws close as quickly as Obi predicts.

“It’s barely above freezing outside,” Ryuu voices her unspoken fears. They have to get more, and they have to get it quickly. The leaves never survive the first frost, and they can’t afford to wait until the new growth in the spring.

-----

Hayata is a lucky messenger. After dosing him with a carefully calculated quantity of kera leaves, Ryuu and Shirayuki were pleased to find the arrows had done as little damage as a half-dozen arrows could possibly do. The rest of his care was relatively straight forward, so once his wounds were packed and stitched, they surrendered him to the care of their senior apprentices.

Now, the first task at hand is to scour the storage room for signs of where the beetle infestation had come from. A handful of the neighboring drawers also contain beetles, and they eventually trace the problem to one of the bundles processed by a newer apprentice a few days ago. A senior apprentice had noted a clump of beetles was attached to a hunk of willow bark a soldier had peeled from the tree. They had marked the bark as unacceptable for storage in the log book, but had apparently failed to dispose of it properly, as a second entry later in the book recorded the same specimen as being stored in the drawer at the epicenter of the infestation. Thankfully, none of the other critical supplies are tainted, but the loss of the kera is devastating enough.

As they clear the room of the infestation and update the log book with the losses, they discuss potential strategies for compensating for the lost supplies. They circle around the inevitable decision as they drop beetle after beetle into a jar of alcohol. By the time the last beetle has been eliminated from the room, they agree only one path forward exists.

Once they reach the doorway separating the pharmacy from the rest of the palace, Ryuu hesitates, hand hovering just short of the handle. He catches her gaze, eyes dark with worry. “….Obi won’t like this.”

Shirayuki presses her lips together, guilt twisting in her gut. She knows he is right, she knows, but…. She shudders involuntarily, an image of the sickening pallor of Obi’s skin as he sweated through the worst of the fever rising unbidden from her memories. She recalls the fear she had felt even with his assurance that he had built enough immunity to be fine even without the kera antidote Ryuu was furiously working to prepare. She couldn’t go through that again, couldn’t almost lose him again.

“We have no choice. He’ll understand.”

 -----

“It’s going to frost tonight, and we can’t afford to wait six months for a new crop of plants to grow in.” Ryuu concludes his succinct summary of the situation, holding up the rest of their meager supply of kera, “We will lose dozens, if not hundreds of soldiers if this is all we have to work with until spring.”

“…Sir Obi will not be pleased,” Shikito protests, every line of his body betraying his extreme reluctance to submit to their request, “He specifically asked me to limit trips outside the palace walls.”

“To limit, not forbid,” Shirayuki presses, suppressing another surge of guilt at her logical dissection of Obi’s instructions, “He spoke with me as well, but he only said to not go outside the walls alone.” She holds out the map they had used on their trip with Obi, gesturing at the precise annotation of the location of the kera patch less than two hour’s ride from Wistal, “We know exactly where to go, and we won’t be alone.”

The guard takes the map from her hands, brow furrowing as he inspects potential routes to the kera patch. She remembers the path – it had been one of the last stops they made and was almost a direct shot from the castle, with most of the route consisting of heavily trafficked roads. Given that many of the herbs they had found on the trip required travel through considerably more questionable areas, it was as safe a path as existed during a war.  

“Lady Shirayuki…” Shikito makes another attempt to dissuade her, “I understand the gravity of the situation, but couldn’t we possibly delay the trip until…”

“Please, Shikito!” desperate, she reaches for his wrists, “We understand the risk, but it’s now or never, and we simply can’t afford to wait.” She squares her shoulders and meets his gaze, doing her best to convey her determination, “Please take us there.”

-----

In the end, they convince him to escort them. Because of the need to beat the frost that will surely coat the surrounding area overnight, Shikito decides travelling light and fast on horseback in a small party will be less conspicuous than traveling in a carriage with a full armed guard. The ride to the patch of kera plants is uneventful, and they breathe a collective sigh of relief when they find the plants still intact, bristling with more than enough leaves to replace the stock consumed by the beetles. Between the three of them, they make fast work of picking and bundling the needed quantity, plus whatever extra they can squeeze into the saddlebags on each of the horses.

Shikito checks the perimeter of the clearing as the pharmacists carefully secure the last of their bounty. He may have spent most of his career as a palace guard, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t seen his fair share of battles in the past. It had been quiet on the way in, no sign of a tail from the main road and no hoof marks on the path ahead. But although he did not see anything wrong, he trusts his instincts enough to know something is not right.

He turns to the pharmacists, “Lady Shirayuki, Master Ryuu, I think we had better…”

The whistle of something cutting through the air attract his attention, and he ducks just in time to see a gold-striped arrow sink deep into the bark of a nearby tree. He curses under his breath, damning himself for exposing them to danger, and spins to face the direction of the threat.

“Run!” he barks, placing himself between the threat and his charges, “Quickly, get back to the-” His words are cut off with a gasp as a dagger flies from nowhere to bury itself hilt-deep in his chest, sending him staggering back against a tree. His vision greys as he slides to the ground, feeling the wet heat of blood seeping into his uniform. Desperate voices call out to him, but as the words are indistinct, as if heard through water. He grits his teeth, forcing out another plea for them to flee, “Run!”

As the last of his consciousness fades, he sees several figures melt from the forest, approaching his charges menacingly.

“Well, well, well… look at what we have here.”

[zacekova]

Akagami no Shirayukihime Dragon Companion AU compilation

Okay, guys. This is getting really long and I don’t regret a thing. 

This is a collection of a bunch of ideas and images from a thread on the Obiyuki discord that we’ve tossed around about an ANS AU where dragons exist. I’ve had some thoughts since then and have added my ideas to the list, but there are still a lot of blank spaces and room for expansion. 

I’m listing any ANS writers/artists who have said they want to create content for any of these. PLEASE feel free to send me pictures, ideas, suggestions, alterations, questions, etc. Literally anything you can think of, anonymously or otherwise. I’ll post the asks and let it go a few rounds in the ANS fandom to see what ideas most of us seem to like best and add them to this master post. 

I hope this monstrous thing serves as inspiration for some of you and is good, wholesome fun for the rest of us. 

Dragons are immortal creatures that have existed since the dawn of time and come in many shapes and sizes. Most are hundreds to thousands of years old and females and babies are rare. They choose To live among humans as lifelong companions and friends, finding a new companion after the previous has died. 

(Note: Dragon’s age the equivalent of about 1 year to every 7 that passes through infancy to adulthood. Once they reach maturity - around 200 years of age - they cease maturing and can live indefinitely, so far as we are aware. Some species never stop growing, some do.) 

Shirayuki’s 

Color: Pink 

Size: Pocket (5-10 inches long)

Age: 250

Personality: Angry. Snaps and hisses at people, particularly Raj and his dragon or anyone who tries to touch her hair. Hides out in Shirayuki’s pockets and hoods - and under her hair, when it was long. 

History: Gets into fights frequently despite his small size, so his face is rather smashed and mangled. Shirayuki still thinks he’s lovely. 

Hoard: Insults and colorful stones 

Writers/Artists: 

Zen’s 

Color: White 

Size: 3 feet tall 

Age: 800 years 

Personality: Dopey and friendly. Drools a lot. Excitable. Runs around the castle knocking things over and making a nuisance of himself. Taught Zen how to climb the castle walls. Probably snores. And chases his tail, among other things. 

History: 

Hoard: Feathers and leaves 

Writers/Artists: 

Obi’s 

Color: Yellow 

Size: Pocket (12-15 inches long). No wings. 

Age: 537

Personality: Flirtatious and clever but also kind of grumpy. Holds grudges over little things and likes to tease. Once hid inside Obi’s pants while Obi was sleeping because she was cold but Obi’s reaction in the morning was so hilarious she does it just to mess with him now. 

History: A huge influence on the development of Obi’s personality - he used to be sullen and quiet but she was so annoying he had to learn to retaliate. 

Hoard: Scarves (they’re warm.) 

Writers/Artists: 

Ryuu’s 

(After growth spurt)

Color: Green, furred. 

Size: Still growing. 

Age: 84 (developmentally the same age as Ryuu) 

Personality: Venomous. 

History: 

Hoard: 

Writers/Artists: 

Mitsuhide’s 

Color: Dark blue 

Size: 6 feet tall 

Age: 871

Personality: Lazy. Very lazy. Sleeps everywhere on anything all the time. Is very strong and helpful but you have to get him up first. Rests his head on Mitsuhide’s shoulder when he’s awake and gives headbutts as a sign of his affection. 

History: 

Hoard: Sunny, cozy alcoves and rocks 

Writers/Artists: 

Kiki’s

Color: Iridescent purple and blue 

Size: 10 feet tall 

Age: 2,332

Personality: Regal, pompous, vain. A beautiful dragon and he knows it but secretly angry about his “smaller” size. Thinks dragons like Izana’s are “excessively large,” and is quite vocal about it. Likes Kiki because she is strong and beautiful and doesn’t take crap from anyone but that’s where their similarities end. 

History: 

Hoard: Reflective surfaces (constantly hounding Kiki to pull out her sword so he can make sure there’s nothing stuck in his teeth).

Writers/Artists:  

Izana’s 

Color: White 

Size: 30 feet tall 

Age: Unknown 

Personality: Ancient and wise, but secretive. Arrogant, disdainful, cold. Has little tolerance for younger dragons. Doesn’t care for weak and stupid people, either, but he finds them amusing all the same. Izana ends up becoming a rare exception; the young King is clever enough to appeal to this dragon’s interests and he ends up begrudgingly fond and protective of Izana after a few years. 

History: 

Hoard: Clarines kingdom (is the companion of the king or the king’s heir exclusively). 

Writers/Artists: 

Zakura’s 

Color: Black 

Size: 12 feet tall 

Age: 942 

Personality:

History: 

Hoard:

Writers/Artists: 

Haruka’s 

Color: Gold 

Size: 8 feet tall 

Age: 2,800 

Personality: Prideful and inquisitive. Spends a lot of his time reading or traveling. 

History:  Is a companion to Haruka’s family more than Lord Haruka himself, and is the biggest reasons for their wealth and standing in Clarines. 

Hoard: Books and maps. 

Writers/Artists: 

Garrack’s 

Color: Red  Size: Age: Personality: History: Hoard: Writers/Arists:

Yuzuri’s 

Color: Red and orange 

Size: 20 feet tall 

Age: 400 

Personality: Suspicious, protective. Hot tempered and can be violent and malicious if her companion or friends are in danger. 

History: 

Hoard:

Writers/Artists: 

Suzu’s 

Color: Yellow 

Size: 2 feet long 

Age: 250 

Personality: Relaxed and lazy but very curious. Likes to lay on Suzu’s head or shoulder and read along with him while Suzu researches and asks a lot of questions until falling asleep again. Drives Yuzuri’s dragon crazy by napping on her neck just high enough that she can’t reach to nip his tail. 

History: 

Hoard: Pencils and pin cushions (the latter makes excellent pillows) 

Writers/Artists: 

Shidan’s 

Color: Brown 

Size: 8 inches 

Age: 1,863 

Personality: Dead without the canonverse’s version of coffee. Cranky and prickly and critical but secretly fond of almost everyone. 

History: 

Hoard: Coffee. All the coffee. 

Writers/Artists: 

Lata’s 

Color: Black. 

Size: 3 inches 

Age: 5 

Personality: Cheerful and curious and playful. Still just a baby. 

History: Lata had never had a dragon companion before. He happened to be out in a cave hunting for stones when he stumbled across a hatching dragon. She took a liking to him despite his panicked protests that he has no idea how to take care of a baby. He does a great job not matter how much he complains and she absolutely adores him. 

Hoard: Fruits and berries. She hasn’t figured out yet why they keep disappearing (Lata eats them before they go bad). 

Writers/Artists: 

Kirito’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Haki’s 

Color: White 

Size: 10 feet tall 

Age: 1,958

Personality: Wise and clever. Offers quiet council and advice but only when the person would not be better served by figuring it out themselves. 

History: 

Hoard: 

Writers/Artists: 

Makiri’s 

Color: Grey 

Size:15 feet tall 

Age: Unkown. 

Personality:

History: 

Hoard:

Writers/Arists: 

Raj’s 

Color: Reddish pink 

Size: 6 inches 

Age: 702 

Personality: 

History:

Hoard: Coins 

Writers/Arists:

Rona’s 

Color: 

Size: 

Age: 

Personality: 

History:

Hoard: 

Writers/Arists:

Eugena’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Sakaki’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Mihaya’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Mukaze’s

Color: Brown and Green 

Size: Unknown 

Age:Unknown 

Personality: Slow and steady as a mountain. Old and wise and infinitely kind. Adopts pretty much everyone on the mountain as his children. Fearsome when angered. 

History:

Hoard: People 

Writers/Arists: superhappybubbles 

Itoya’s

Color: Grey 

Size: 12 feet tall

Age: 1,442

Personality: Quiet and serious. Contemplative. Likes to sit outside and watch nature, watch the sun and moon and stars cross the sky, the water flow in the river, the birds and creatures go about their days. Patient and stubborn as stone. 

History: 

Hoard: 

Writers/Arists: 

Kazuki’s 1st 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History: Umihebi killed Kazuki’s first dragon, something considered impossible before. Kazuki rarely talks about it. Umihebi became more power hungry, greedy, and arrogant than ever before. 

Hoard:

Writers/Arists: superhappybubbles 

Kazuki’s 2nd 

Color: Brownish green. 

Size: 24 inches long 

Age: 23 

Personality: Cheerful. Kinda dopey. Very clumsy. Basically a fearless but accident-prone little kid who wind Kazuki over by being ridiculously chirpy and lighthearted and giving Kazuki’s concerned and protective spirit one too many heart attacks by walking obliviously into danger. 

History:

Hoard: Flowers and acorns 

Writers/Arists: superhappybubbles 

Umihebi’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Kihal’s

Color: Blue and green, exotic in appearance. 

Size: 2 feet long

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard: Snail shells 

Writers/Arists:

Hisame’s 

Color: Dark grey 

Size: 15 feet tall 

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Touka’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Tsuruba and Tariga’s 

Color: Dark grey 

Size: 10 feet tall 

Age: 470 

Personality: 

History: Touka chained him down as a punishment to the twins once after they had made a mistake. The first thing they do after Touka dies is run back to release him. 

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Shuuka’s 

Color: Black 

Size: 15 inches 

Age: 72 

Personality: Rambunctious and curious. Explores in the walls and crevices of the fort and eats the mice and rats. Hangs upside-down from the rafters to sleep. Likes to roll around and bat at people’s feet while they’re trying to walk. Basically a cat, but cuter. 

History:

Hoard: Arrowheads. Two (2) mice or one (1) rat can be traded for one intact arrowhead, should the need arise. 

Writers/Arists:

Shiira’s 

Color: Orange 

Size: 4 inches 

Age: 608

Personality: A total moron. Look at that face, c’mon. He likes to climb trees and eat fruit. He screeches extremely loud with a raspy, grating tone to get Shiira’s attention, which he absolutely loathes, and gnaws on literally everything. And then just when Shiira is ready to wring his neck, he falls asleep on Shiira’s lap curled up in a tiny ball and snuffling/nuzzling at Shiira’s belly. 

History:

Hoard: He seems to think every chair and bed in existence belongs to him. You got up to go get a drink? Too bad, he stole it. You want to go to sleep? Well, looks like he’s camped out right in the center and how could you possibly stand to wake something that adorable? 

Writers/Arists:

Kai’s 

Color: Unknown 

Size: Unknown 

Age: N/A 

Personality: Unknown 

History: Someone gave him the egg as a gift. My shipping heart wants to say Shiira, but I don’t think a lowly gate guard could afford a dragon egg. 

Hoard: Unknown 

Writers/Arists:

Haruto’s 

Color: Purplish blue 

Size: 5 feet tall 

Age: 924

Personality: Happy and sweet. Likes to lick Haruto’s hand and nuzzle her side. Curls around whatever chair she sits in. 

History:

Hoard: Pearls 

Writers/Arists:

Yatsufusa’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Higata’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Earl Seiran’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Torou’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Atri’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

[sabraeal]

More of A Slip of the Tongue, because Ryuu casually calling them mom and dad is the happiest thing to ever happen to me.

Kirito’s half hanging out of the window when he says, “It’s a little funny.”

“It’s been weeks.” Ryuu rubs at his head, agitated, trying not to watch whatever death-defying trick he’s gleaned off of Obi this week. “And Jirou told me he’d ‘tell my father abut this’ when he saw me walking back from the lab last night. The guards were laughing.”

Kirito makes a sound suspiciously like a snort. “C’mon, it’s been two weeks, and nothing ever happens here.”

Ryuu hunches over his desk, grumbling, “Well I wish it would.”

It hadn’t helped that Obi was waiting for him this morning, mouth set in concern. The whole way to the lab he’d gently reminded him that sleep was important, especially for growing researchers. Ryuu had to bite his lips to keep from pointing out that guard captains needed the same.

“Maybe someone will fall off the wall,” Kirito offers brightly. “That always gets tongues wagging.”

He rolls his eyes. “One can only hope. Now come back and close the window. Science takes a consistent room temperature, and you’re letting in a draft.”

“But Obi –”

Ryuu fixes him with his most Shirayuki-like look of disappointment. “Well, if you want to explain why Shirayuki’s stones didn’t crystallize –”

“Yeesh, I’m coming, I’m coming.” Kirito scrambles back, closing the window with a rusty screech. Suzu will have to look at that when he gets back from –

“Oh hey now.” Kirito pressed himself against the glass, nose pressed comically flat. It was too bad there was no chance of anyone seeing it, four stories up. “Looks like you’re about to get your wish, Little Ryuu.”

He glares at Kirito for the nickname, but squeezes in beside him, peeping through the glass, and –

And blue-and-white banners snap in the breeze, just above where a young man with white hair has swung off his horse, two aides at his back.

Oh no. Oh no no no. This is –

Kirito cocks a grin. “The prince is here for an official visit.”

– a disaster.

The next morning finds Ryuu in his office, wearing a groove in the floorboards.

It’s Friday, and Friday is journal day, as per his request four years ago, when he first saw the state of Suzu’s lab notebooks. While both his lab mates – and their assistants – bear the event with an air of noble suffering, Ryuu revels in it. He closes his door, cozens under his desk, and sets to replicating his scrambled notes neatly in his notebook, enjoying the scent of parchment and leather as he works. Sometimes, he doesn’t even get disturbed until dinner.

Today, however, it makes him a sitting duck.

There’s no reason to be so worried – it’s not as if anyone would tell Prince Zen; they know he’s friends with Obi and Shirayuki, but it’s rare that outsiders are brought in on the jokes that the Northerners share when the snow falls and work slows. But still – it would be all too easy to slip, for a guard to say tell Ryuu’s dad that he has the midnight shift, or go bring Little Ryuu to his mother, or – something worse. His imagination is white noise, but that does not make the dread any less real.

He tries to force himself to work, to sit up at his desk and order his notes into something approaching consistency, but his hands shake; when he tries to hold a pen, it trembles from his grasp.

That is ridiculous. It was �� a slip of the tongue. It didn’t mean anything, and a man like Prince Zen would know that. There’s no way he would feel threatened by the – the subconscious feelings of an adolescent. It’s not like he was saying –

“Ryuu!” The door bursts open, and his papers take flight.

The prince stands in the midst of his office as notes fall like flakes from the rafters, as if they stand in a snowglobe that’s been tipped. Zen might as well be a painted figure for the pose he cuts, hands on his hips and eyebrows upraised. It would only make sense; whenever Ryuu stood in his presence, the feeling of unreality clung to the moment: a prince taking interest in a little orphan boy, just like out of a fairy tale.

“Prince Zen,” he breathes. “Are you looking for Shirayuki? We don’t share offices anymore. I think she’s in a meeting with Shidan, but hers is just –”

“Oh, no, Obi already told me.” His smile is perfect and white and kind, but it only sets Ryuu more on edge, makes him wonder more what a prince was doing in his office. “I came to see you.”

Ryuu swallows hard. “Me?”

“Yes, you!” the prince laughs, as if he could not fathom how Ryuu might not know the level of his esteem. “I thought we all might have dinner tonight.”

“A-all?” He winces, thinking about a grand hall, chairs filled to a man, Ryuu up on a dais –

“Yes, you, me, Obi and Shirayuki.” He seems excited by the prospect. “A private dinner, with just all of us from Wistal. No Mitsuhide or Kiki this time, of course.”

Wistal is a small, quiet office with the window open, Higata struggling with pots heavier than he can carry, and Garrack peeking down at him with soft eyes and oh-so-quietly closing the curtain. It isn’t the prince and his aides, not to him.

There’s no good way explain. No way that isn’t insulting at least, and Ryuu does appreciate the prince’s good will toward him, his solicitousness when it comes to Ryuu’s academic growth.

It is just impossible for him to shake the feeling that it only endures because of his relationship with Shirayuki. As if he is some – some younger sibling, destined to be forgotten and ignored as soon as the romance ends.

If the romance ends, he reminds himself. It’s been six years; time enough for hearts to change, if they were going to.

“Sure,” he grunts with a nod. “Of course.”

The prince claps his hands, pleased. “Great! Tonight, then? My quarters?”

“Ah.” He makes himself busy with picking up his notes, so the man doesn’t see his grimace. “Yes. Sure.”

“I heard my mother is sending your proposal on to the Council of Lords,” Zen offers, during a friendly lull in conversation.

It’s all been fond memories of Wistal until now; ones Ryuu didn’t share, but were pleasant to listen to as he ate. He’d laugh in the right places, and the conversation would carry on without him, and it was – nice. Not as fine as eating with just Obi and Shirayuki, but good enough.

But of course, it’s not to last.

“Um, yes,” he murmurs, eyes darting over the table for something to anchor him. The salt doesn’t grab his attention, nor the other serving dishes, but Obi lays a hand flat on the table, and that – that holds him. “She is.”

“That must have been some presentation!” Prince Zen’s mouth opens wide in a smile, and oh – oh no – he doesn’t know what he’s invited, saying something like –

“The presentation was brilliant,” Shirayuki gushes, at the same time Obi loudly brags, “Ryuu is the youngest to ever present in front of Their Majesties.”

He covers his face, but it does nothing to muffle the conversation; Obi and Shirayuki boasting about a humiliating number of his academic exploits while the prince sits quietly, making the right sounds in the right places.

“One of the old men at the university tried to challenge his work the other day,” Obi begins, in that broad way he has when he’s settling in to tell a story, and Ryuu groans. “And he –”

“He means one of the chairs at the university,” Shirayuki interjects. “He was trying to disprove Ryuu’s theory on root systems –”

“Right, he had some problem with the way Ryuu was talking about roots.” He wishes he could will himself into nothingness, rather that have to listen to this. “And Ryuu, he goes right up to him, in the middle of his lecture –”

“It was a forum.” Shirayuki’s voice lifts with excitement; she’s never had much love for the herbology chair. “He’d called it to correct Ryuu’s research, there were nearly five hundred people there, almost all of them in upper level research –”

“Right, so in front of all these smart-types, Ryuu comes in, carrying something like a hundred pounds of books –”

“He’d taken out every book on root systems in the library –”

“And he just told the old man off right there, in front of everyone!”

“His rebuttal was elegant,” Shirayuki told the prince, pride thick in her voice. Ryuu’s heart clenches at the sound. “Not a person left without thinking Ryuu’s theory was the next step forward on plant proliferation.”

“You know I prefer fists when it comes to fights, Master,” Obi says, “but I couldn’t have been prouder than if Ryuu punched the old man him –”

“Obi,” Ryuu cries out, of only to stop him. He can’t take all this – this attention.

The table goes utterly silent. Ryuu drops his hands.

The prince stares at him with a strange face. “Dad?”

Aaaargh.

He casts his gaze over at Obi, trying to – to ask for help, or – or something, but he –

He is staring down at his plate with something akin to wonder, akin to pride, akin to – to–

Heartbreak.

“Obi?” he tries, but it’s swallowed up by the prince’s laugh, by his booming, “I didn’t know you were so old as to have a son, Obi.” He turns thoughtful. “Though if all your boasting is true, you certainly sowed your wild oats enough.”

Shirayuki frowns. “Zen…”

Obi’s face stutters, mouth passing through a grimace before he lets out his own laugh. “Well, Miss always said: I may joke, but I never lie.”

She glances at him, wary, but Obi’s face is as bright as it ever is. Ryuu wonders if she can see it’s a mask, if she can see the way it’s peeling and cracking at the edges. It’s always been Shirayuki who could see these things, but – but –

Prince Zen is so dazzling, she’s too often blinded by his presence. Ryuu presses his lips together, hands fisting beneath the linens.

“Well, if Obi is the father,” Zen chuckles, swiveling his head to Ryuu. “Then who is the mother?”

He shouldn’t – he shouldn’t say anything – hadn’t he been so worried about this just hours ago? – but –

But he raises his gaze to Shirayuki’s face, flushed and frowning, and says with pointed ease, “I don’t know, I guess.”

Ryuu doesn’t read faces easy, at least ones that don’t belong to Obi or Shirayuki, but he sees the suspicion take hold on Zen’s at the same time resolve sets on Shirayuki’s.

“Zen, I don’t think…” She clears her throat. “You shouldn’t joke. Obi…”

Her face flushes, not from the wine this time, and she says, “He would be a really good father, I think.”

“Is.” The word is out of his mouth before he can think, but –

But it’s worth it, to see the look on Obi’s face.

Shirayuki sees it too. “You’re right,” she says, so softly, “he is a good father.”

Zen’s gaze darts between the two of them. “I…see.”

In the silence that follows, no one able to lift their gazes from the table, Ryuu wonders if they all are beginning to.

“Well!” Obi leaps to his feet, dish in hand. “I should – should go. I have the morning shift, you know, wouldn’t do to go to bed late and wine-drunk.”

Shirayuki half-stands to follow. “Obi –”

He holds up a hand, and his smile is – is pained. “No need, Miss. You and Master enjoy dessert.” He shifts his gaze to Ryuu, lips pulled tight. “Come on, Little Ryuu. Help your father with these.”

“O-of course.”

When they close the door behind them, arms laden with dishes, the room is still silent, still thick with something.

Obi lays an assuring hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Little Ryuu. They’ll work things out.” His face is too deep in shadow to see more than the white of his teeth as he smiles. “After all, it’s just a joke.”

His hands tighten around the rim of his plates. It’s not, it’s not. “Yeah,” he grunts softly. “Sure.”

His room is dark when she goes to him. Only the moonlight shafting through his narrow windows illuminates him, shows how he is caved in, hollowed out around his heart.

You’re right, of course, Zen had said after the door closed, smiled pulled tight across his face. Now that I think about it, Obi’s always had a soft spot.

It’s not his fault; he hasn’t been here to know – to know all the things she does, but –

“You can take it back now.”

His voice is as it always is, light and playful, but she hears the fraying in it too, the way he’s unraveling.

“There’s no one here now,” he reminds her. “You can take it back, Miss.”

“Obi –” 

“Please.”

The bristle of his hair tickles her palm as she rests it on his head. “I can’t.”

He looks up at her then, oh so slowly, eyes blinking and dark in the shadows. All she can see of them is their shine. “Why?”

“It would be a lie,” she says, so softly, running furrows in his hair. “It would be a lie if I took it back.”

He pitches forward, head thumping against her belly. “You should go.” His voice is muffled in the folds of her dress. “You should be with Master, Miss.”

“No.” Her fingers shift softly over the whorl of his cowlick. “I’m right where I’m meant to be.”

His breath is hot against her belly, heavy. She feels damp where he rests his head. “I’m right where I’m needed most,” she says, less certain. “Aren’t I?”

Finally, finally, he tilts into her touch. “Yes,” he sighs. “Yes.”