#obiyukiweek18

[glitterberry]

Obiyuki Week | Day 5: Eros Passionate, intimate love, romantic love; also erotic love, and love at first sight.

[thecatwhogrins]

Eros

Being hanged isn’t a fast way to die, contrary to what some people may think.

As usual, because of his own rotten luck, Obi’s neck did not snap when the lever was finally pulled to hang him. As he struggled against the pull of gravity, he cursed at the gods who were once again laughing in his face.

He couldn’t even die quickly.

The square of the Revilian prison was loud, full of prisoners and onlookers. When he had been sent for this undercover mission two weeks before to spy on Clarine’s neighbouring country to ascertain whether they were planning to attack Clarines, he had known it would be dangerous but he hadn’t expected to get hung in a prison.

As oxygen became sparser, Obi could have sworn he could see a red headed woman arguing with the warden. This lasted what seemed to be an eternity until, blissfully, the cord around his neck went lax and he fell upon the dusty ground like a rotten apple from a tree. Once again, he had thwarted death.

Obi would have laughed, if he had had enough oxygen to do so.

_____________

When Obi wakes again, he finds that he is no longer in the prison cell.

He is lying in a very soft bed. His surroundings are foreign to him, frilly lace curtains and silky bedsheets. A delicate ornately decorated vase stands on the nightstand next to him, filled to the brim with flowers. Everything about this apartment smells of money.

He realizes he’s also freshly shaven, his clothes are clean and new, and his hair is also cut.

Where was he?

Before he can even start to formulate a plan to figure out what is going on, a woman enters the room.

He knows her.

“I’ve brought you some clothes and some food, Obi. You’re lucky I arrived on time and pulled you out of there. Another minute and you’d be dead,” she admonishes.

It takes him a moment, but he finally croaks: “Shirayuki? Am I dead?”

Before his astonished eyes, Shirayuki’s eyes well up with tears as she approaches the bed and grabs his hands.

“We thought you were dead, Obi! Once Zen told me he hadn’t had news of you in two weeks, I knew something was wrong. I almost strangled Izana, he wouldn’t tell me where he had sent you undercover. But he finally relented when I said I’d come investigate on my own. It took me some time, but I finally found you,” she says quickly, the dark circles under her eyes proof enough of what she tells.

“I’m so glad you’re alive.” Shirayuki sobs as she presses her forehead to his hands.

Obi stares at Shirayuki in shock, his eyes riveted on her face, trying to decide whether what he is experiencing is what his poor under oxygenated brain can conjure before he dies or reality. He’s seriously thinking it’s the former, rather than the latter.

So, when Shirayuki presses her lips against his, Obi doesn’t react immediately.

It’s only once a hot tear lands on his hand that he awakens from his daze; Shirayuki is here, she is real. He did not die. He’s alive.

For once he’s glad he’s alive. He’s affronted death so many times before, only to spit in its face and crawl out from under its shadowy figure, but never has he been this happy about it before. After escaping death, he’d usually laugh it off and move on to the next mission.

But not this time.

His hand intertwines in Shirayuki’s hair, something he’s been wanting to do ever since he’s seen it shine in the sunlight, his other hand on her waist, pulling her closer, closer, until there is nothing in between them. Her lips are sweet, and Obi finds that instead of extinguishing the fire he’s felt ever since he’s met her, it only makes him burn more. Her touch is ambrosia and he cannot get enough of it. He’s pretty sure he’s going to die, but he finds that he doesn’t care.

He’s died so many times before, it doesn’t matter if he does one more time.

[claudeng80]

Shadow in a Glass, Ch. 1 (Pragma)

Some things are everyday occurrences around the Wistal pharmacy. Higata knocks over the ladder. Someone puts the peppermint back on the wrong shelf. Garrack spends the night on the cot in her office.

Others are far less common. Lord Haruka actually shows up to his scheduled annual physical examination. An apprentice passes one of Ryuu’s tests on the first try.

The Chief Pharmacist summoning Obi is unprecedented. “Have I done something wrong?” he asks Ryuu, who seems far more interested in the bug marching the length of a blade of koko grass than he is in the mission Garrack sent him on. Ryuu’s one-shouldered shrug isn’t much of an answer.

Even an immediate knight has to come when he’s called. Obi lets the sack of rocks slip from his shoulder, scooting it up against the terrace. There’s no reason to give Higata any excuses. Ryuu’s already disappearing into the tangle of grass, possibly in search of the source of the bugs.

Obi can make the hike back to the pharmacy building take a long time when he puts his mind to it. He shouldn’t have anything to worry about; he’s been very well-behaved lately. No pranks. Barely any insubordination at all. But his feet drag, far heavier than his usual skip, slowing even further as he reaches the main room of the pharmacy. Garrack’s window drapes are closed, common enough when she’s had a rough night, but bright light spills across the floor from the barely-open door. It’s secrecy, not silence, that she wants, and that worries Obi more than he can say. For years he’s been dreading the day they tell him Shirayuki doesn’t need him anymore. Without any clues to what he’s doing here, it’s hard not to feel like that’s going to be today.

Garrack’s door swings open with the lightest of touches, and Obi’s heart sinks on seeing Shirayuki first. She’s a stormcloud in Garrack’s guest chair, impatience and stillness at war in her face. She’s been waiting for a while, he can tell, her hands clasped whitely in her lap and her feet rooted to the floor. Looks like Garrack’s pulled together the whole team, but why?

“Glad you could make it,” drawls the king, at ease behind Garrack’s desk. Garrack, perched on top of the desk with her hip only inches from the king’s elbow, is unreadable. “Before you complain,” Izana continued. “I already cleared this with your master.” He bends down, pulling Garrack’s backup flask out of the back of a desk drawer and refreshing his glass.

So much for claiming his loyalty to Zen won’t allow it. It was too good an excuse to work more than once.

“Are you sure you need us both?” Shirayuki’s still clutching her work gloves, goggles forgotten on her forehead. There’s a new scorch mark across the chest of her leather apron, and Obi frowns. She swears she’s not tampering with the process, not without Suzu there to keep an eye on her, but he wouldn’t put it past her to be lured by the promise of improvements. She’s been head down in new uses for seed-warming rocks for days, and nothing less than the king’s command could pull her away from her crucible.

“I’m coming to that,” says Izana. His eyes, lighting on Shirayuki, are fond, and it’s hard to reconcile the hostile prince of Shirayuki’s early days with the genuine smile he’s sporting now. He makes no secret of the respect he holds her in or the pleasure he takes in her presence.

Good thing, too, given what she’s gone through to earn it, and the only sour note is always the fact that none of it was enough to earn Shirayuki her chance with Zen. Even when she was the one who uncovered the plot in the northeast, when she was the one who opened the way for Zen to keep Clarines from being wrapped in a war far worse than Touka Bergatt ever achieved. Clarines owes her a debt she’d never think to collect, and the king took advantage of her good nature. And now it’s too late. Of course he likes her.

It amazes him that she can even look Izana in the eyes, but her gaze is steady as he begins. “Are you familiar with the Toothed Coast?” He turns to Obi now, that same fondness in his eyes, and his voice curls around the words as though he’s offering a gift. Obi trusts none of this.

“I can find it on a map, but I’ve never been there, if that’s what you’re asking.” He’s playing into the king’s hands, he knows it, but what other choice does he have? It’s not the first or the last time he’ll be the king’s pawn. “I thought it was Tanbarun territory, though.”

That earns a smirk he’d call smug on anyone else. “Until recently, you’d have been right. They ceded the area to us as part of a trade agreement, and it’s becoming obvious why.”

Shirayuki perks up at the mention of her own country, even though the Toothed Coast is about as far from either her idyllic mountain birthplace or her city streets as you could imagine. Rough land, unwelcoming people, from everything he’s heard-

“Every soldier and every envoy I’ve sent has disappeared, but there are some very suspicious stories trickling out. I need a spy, and my dear Chief Pharmacist here has agreed to embed one with a medical mission.” He tips his glass up to Garrack.

“Everything I hear about the public health in the area is abysmal,” Garrack interjects, refusing to be pulled into his flippant tone. There’s a bone-deep offense underneath the surface. That, finally, gets Shirayuki to show some interest.

She doesn’t have anything to say, though, so Obi breaks the silence. It always helps to be completely clear about everything, when Izana is talking. “So you want me to be that spy?” That doesn’t seem so bad. He survived their grand tour of the north, complete with conspiracies and daring rescues. This sounds more or less like being a caravan guard but with a little more state-sanctioned indulgence of his natural curiosity-

“Yes,” Izana answers slowly. “But there’s a catch.”

“I’m not about to risk my people being put in danger unnecessarily.” Garrack’s voice takes no prisoners, and from the tightening of Izana's lips Obi senses the end of a considerable argument. “No soldiers, no guards.” She fixes Obi with a look that, while stern, holds humor in reserve. “No knights. Only herbalists.”

“Then how-”

“Congratulations, Apprentice Pharmacist Obi.” Garrack’s grin breaks free. “Welcome to your new job.”

[puffdragongirl]

Catch

This piece started from an idea for Day 1 of ANSweek, but then decided to tell a longer story than I initially thought. It’s the first thing I’ve written since I was a teenager, so I’m both excited and nervous to have it out there. I hope you enjoy this saga - in which Obi catches everyone.

--

The book she wanted was, predictably, out of reach.

From her perch atop the room’s rickety step-ladder, Shirayuki stares up at the dusty leather tome, its details indistinct at this distance aside from the large “17” on the spine. However, she had spent enough time wading through the first 16 volumes of Plants of the North to recognize the color of the cover and the patterns of decorative gilding unique to the set. What she did not know, however, was how the errant volume wound up two shelves above and three bookcases over from the other 29 volumes.

Releasing her frustration in a little sigh, she rests a hand against the shelf to steady herself and reaches out once more for the book. It was so close, if she could just stretch a little farther, it would be in her grasp. Maybe if she stood on her toes, she could lean that last little bit…

But that last little bit was just too much for the old ladder to take. With a groan and a crack, the top step gives way, sending Shirayuki plummeting to the ground. She yelps, hands grasping for purchase against the shelves, and, failing that, curling around her head to cushion herself from the incoming encounter with the library’s hardwood floor.

But the ground never comes. Instead, she finds herself held securely in familiar arms, face pressed to a coat still warm from the sun.  Her eyes, squeezed shut sometime during her descent, blink open, and she looks up at warm, golden eyes. When their gazes meet, one side of his mouth lifts in a lazy grin.

“You know,” Obi teases, “Master would not approve if he knew how often you fall for me.”

“O-Obi!” she sputters, wriggling in his arms until he adjusts his grasp to allow her to get to her feet. Once she has her footing, she scrambles back a pace. “It…it’s not that – it’s just the ladder was old and…”

 “Sure, sure….” He winks in that exaggerated way of his, sending a blush racing up her cheeks. “It’ll be our little secret, Miss.”

 “Oooh…” battling against her blush, she swats playfully at her knight. She should probably be used to his flirting by now. He flirts with almost everything that moves, so she knows she shouldn’t take it personally. That they are partners-in-crime; the best of friends. Yet sometimes his smiles and winks still set her heart aflutter.

 He neatly side-steps the half-hearted swipe, laughter deepening his grin to a smile, and crinkling the corners of his eyes. Her heart races faster. She swallows and presses a hand to her chest, willing the beat to slow. Get it together…

Mercifully, he doesn’t seem to notice her imbalance, and his attention shifts to the shelves, “Now tell me Miss, what book dares eludes your grasp today?”

“The bright green one with the gold 17 on the second shelf down.” Grateful for the shift in topic, she points up at the distinctive volume. “It’s not with the rest of the set, but it’s the next one we need to sort out the mess in the storeroom.”

Although it might not have been fair to compare a palace pharmacy to meticulously organized and optimized research labs, Ryuu’s first declaration as Wilant’s Head Pharmacist was to catalog and reorganize their storeroom to match the they’d come to prefer after their years in Lyrias. But since the previous Head Pharmacist, an older gentleman steeped in what Garrack had referred to in her letters as “the old ways,” had not labeled the contents of the jars since “any pharmacist with their salt can tell a plant by its looks alone,” the task was much harder than it should have been. For the past week, both Ryuu and Shirayuki had had their hands full cross-referencing 30 years of sloppy records against their own experience and the contents of every encyclopedia available.

“We’re making progress,” she sighs, thinking of the pile of jars waiting at her desk, “but every time we think we’ve gotten it all, we find another cabinet of mystery herbs.”

“Things aren’t that much better in the office,” Obi offers, toeing the broken ladder aside to assess the sturdiness of the shelving. “The Mountain seems like it gets bigger every morning, never mind how many papers Master signs.”

Obi had been (reluctantly) conscripted to help summit what he deemed the “Mountain of Paperwork” surrounding Zen’s official relocation to WIlant. For all his claims to ineptitude, even Kiki had to admit his eye for detail and excellent recall were valuable assets when conquering such a large pile of paperwork.

Satisfied that the shelf would hold his weight, Obi clambers up to retrieve the stray volume. He pulls it from the shelf and holds it up for confirmation. At her nod, he tucks it beneath his arm, “Do you need anything else while I’m up here?”

She shakes her head; the rest were low enough to reach without a ladder. “Speaking of Zen, if they are still so busy up there, are tonight’s dinner plans still on?”

Although the five of them were at last in the same place again for more than a few days’ visit, opportunities for anything more than passing greetings had been few and far between. Zen’s official relocation to Wilant Castle would have been more than enough reason to hold an official gathering of some kind, but since the King had sent word of his intent to visit within the next few months as well, the Dowager Queen would settle for nothing less than a full-on gala to mark the occasion. Given the sheer number of arrangements that had to be made in preparation for the upcoming gala, not to mention the as-of-yet unannounced transfer of power, since their arrival Zen, Kiki, and Mitsuhide worked from dawn to dusk on the good days, and from dawn to midnight all the rest.

She frowns, thinking of how harried even Kiki looked the last time she had seen them, “If they are too busy, it can wait until they have more time.”

“I don’t think I could keep Master away if I tried, Miss,” Obi jumps down from the shelf, and presents the book to Shirayuki. He shoots her a conspiratorial grin, “You know the effect wanting to see you has. He has been writing at a furious pace since he realized today was the day.”

Shirayuki shrugs, unable to stop a small answering smile from curving her lips. So much had changed as the years had passed, but it was nice to know some things remained the same. Hugging the book to her chest, she turns to head back to the lab, “Well then, I guess we’d better get to work if we want to get to the kitchens on time!”

Obi falls into step beside her, “Not sure I’ll be much help with the mystery herbs, but just point me towards the heavy objects that need lifting, Miss!”

______

Later that evening, Ryuu joins Shirayuki and Obi in the kitchen as they fall into the familiar task of cooking dinner. After their years in Lyrias and travelling the North, their repertoire of dishes had expanded considerably, but still had a certain warmth the meals prepared in the palace kitchens lacked. Just as the first dishes near completion, a knock on the door breaks the flow of conversation.

“So, how late are they running?”

“Half an hour at least,” Shirayuki refolds the parchment as she returns to the range, pointedly ignoring Obi’s triumphant grin. It wasn’t that they’d made a wager, exactly…but watching him kneed the bun dough, muscles rippling under the thin black shirt he’d stripped down to in the heat of the kitchen, had set her off-balance as much as his flirting had this morning. When he had asked what was wrong, the only thing she could think to blame her strange look on was incredulity that buns could be completed in the scant time before their scheduled dinner. “I suppose that means we have time to finish the buns after all.”

“Not the Dorat ones,” Ryuu chimes in, nose wrinkling in disgust, “They all taste like soap.”

“Which ones do you want then?” Obi asks, transferring a scoop of steaming stir fry to Ryuu’s plate, and the rest to a serving dish, “Half the bun recipes we brought back have cilantro in them as well.”

“How about we make a few?” Shirayuki bent to sort through a pile of produce from the greenhouse. They hadn’t had a chance to meet the palace botanist yet, but whoever they were they maintained an excellent assortment of fruits, herbs, and vegetables. “We haven’t tried any of the ones we got from Lady Grey’s cook, and I think there was at least one sweet on, too…”

Thirty minutes and five bun recipes later, Ryuu ambles away from the kitchen, stomach full of samples (“Someone has to make sure Obi hasn’t made things too spicy!”) and pockets stuffed with pilfered buns. Just as Shirayuki places the last set of buns in a steaming basket, the rest of the dinner guests start to arrive. Mitsuhide and Kiki show up first, carrying several bottles of fine wine raided from the palace cellars to accompany the meal.

Obi gapes at the label, then scrambles to pry the bottle open, “Where did you find this, and please tell me there are more bottles wherever you did!”

Kiki reaches over to take the bottle, then starts filling glasses, “It’s a secret.”

“But Miss Kiki…” Obi whines plaintively, “Is that any way to thank the chef?” “You’re right, how careless of me.” Obi looks smug for a second, until Kiki turns to offer a glass to Shirayuki. “Would you like some wine, Shirayuki?”

Mitsuhide dissolves in laughter as Obi sputters in mock offense, “Miss Kiki!!”

The mock argument is still going on when Zen arrives a few minutes later.

“Sorry I’m late!” he calls, pushing the door open. He looks a bit harried but is carrying an ornate bottle of aged brandy received as a “welcome gift” from a lord seeking to curry favor with the soon-to-be regent of the North.

As a mixed chorus of “Zen!” and “Master!” rings out in greeting, he stops just a few steps into the room to admire the sight of his friends all gathered in one place. Shirayuki, face set in concentration as she carefully transfers gleaming buns from a steamer to basket. Obi, chattering about being underappreciated as he ferries steaming dishes to the table. Mitsuhide and Kiki sitting at the table, slinging half-hearted insults at Obi as they sip wine, and looking more relaxed than he had seen them in weeks. It had been too long – years even – since they could all just be together like this, since he really felt like he was home, it was hard to believe what he was seeing was true.

“I know you have missed me and my handsome face terribly, Master,” Obi sings, carrying the last of the dishes to the table, “But the food is getting cold…”

They settle at the table and pass around baskets and platters overflowing with fragrant noodles, roasted vegetables and steamed buns. As the night passes, the conversation drifts as they catch up on the day’s trials, circulate palace gossip, and discuss the progress in the pharmacy and for the upcoming gala. Eventually, they tire of talking of work, and the discussion turns to Shirayuki’s diplomatic travels through the North, which were seemingly endless in number, and only some of which were grossly embellished by Obi.

The alcohol flows freely too, perhaps too freely for some members of the party. As the hour grew late, Shirayuki, flushed and off-balance from drink, rises to carry some empty plates to the sink, but stumbles as she passes the table. Before she can do much more than register her loss of balance, however, one of Obi’s arms is braced across her chest to steadying her, while the keeps the plates in her arms from clattering to the ground.

“Nice catch,” Mitsuhide compliments, settling back in his chair from half-rising, “It’s almost like you have practice.”

“Catching pharmacists is practically a hobby at this point,” Obi replies, stepping back once Shirayuki had regained her balance. As she stammers out a thank you, he takes the plates from her arms, and gently urges her to his abandoned seat. “Keeping people from hitting the ground one of my most regular duties, closely followed by reaching things on high shelves.” 

“It’s probably true” Shirayuki admits, somewhat miserably, sitting down and pressing her hands against her temples. “This isn’t even the first time today, and I think he caught Ryuu from a stumble yesterday too.”

“Not the first time today?” Zen asks, concern wrinkling his brow, “Did something happen earlier?”

“The ladder in the pharmacy’s reference room broke,” she waves one hand to ward off his worry. “Obi caught me…then climbed the shelf to get the book I was trying to reach.”

Heads swivel to Obi, who just smiles and shrugs as he piles more dishes into the sink. “What can I say? My catching services are in high demand.”

“You know,” Shirayuki muses, “I think Obi even caught me the first time we really met…”

____

Staggering under the weight of her exhaustion, Shirayuki fumbles the box, which of course, lands directly on her toes. With a quick look around to make sure nobody saw her clumsiness, she kneels to collect both her box and herself. Although she wouldn’t go so far as to say she is grateful to have had an overstuffed box fall on her foot, the pain did make her feel more awake, so perhaps it wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Gathering her strength, she lifts the box, “Here we go!” But as she stands, the world swings on its axis and she feels herself falling…

…into unfamiliar arms. It takes her a moment to place the face, exotic and a little too lean, but his eyes, shining like a coin despite the shadow of his headwrap, are what ultimately gives him away. He steadies her with one surprisingly gentle hand and balances her box in the other.

He sighs, “Now I’ve done it…”

“You’re…” she stammers, staring into his strange eyes. Releasing her, he kneels to gather the papers that scattered when she stumbled. “What are you doing here?”

______

“Is that all that happened in Laxdo?” Zen asks, leaning back in his chair as Shirayuki finishes her story. “I would have been less mad when I found out if I knew.”

Obi, elbow deep in soapy water, just lifts a brow at that, sending Shirayuki into a giggling fit. Mitsuhide valiantly attempts to hold in his laughter, but quickly fails. Even Kiki chuckles, submitting to the merriment filling the room. Zen tugs at his collar, cheeks heating as he scrambles to offer a defense that does little more than send everyone into another round of laughs, until he too is powerless to resist the shared mirth.

When the laughter dies down, Mitsuhide comes to Zen’s defense, “Well, we can’t all be lucky enough to spend our days catching pharmacists.”

“Hey, hey,” Obi protests, brandishing a cheese-crusted serving spoon in defense, “I catch more than pharmacists too!”

“It’s true,” Kiki offers, leaning a cheek against her hand, “He’s caught me, as well.”

______

A large wave breaks against the side of the boat, a jarring departure from its previous steady rock. Kiki, distracted by Mitsuhide’s musing on the source of Obi’s uncharacteristic quiet, loses her balance in the shaking. Before she can even fathom the possibility of a fall, however, she is caught in a secure, but light grip. She blinks and is startled to see sober golden eyes gazing down at her.

Even after all this time, she hasn’t gotten used to the absolute silence of his movements. “…Thanks,” she says, almost absently. Her surprise at his sudden appearance so close to them must bleed into her voice and come across as irritation. The second she is steady, he releases her and steps back.

“Ah, sorry,” he apologizes, hand raising to his chest as he bows. “You were probably okay with the shaking.” His voice is just as sober as his gaze, and only years of iron control stops her neutral expression from slipping to a concerned frown, “Right, Miss Kiki?”

“Somewhat,” she agrees, although in truth he steadied her before she could do anything more than realize she was losing her balance. Before she can say anything more though, he has already wandered away to lean on the ship’s railing, staring out as if it may hold whatever answer he seeks.

______

“Oh right, I almost forgot about that.” Leaning back in his chair, Mistuhide remembers Obi’s strange quiet during the early part of the inspection, “You were so distracted that trip, we were starting to worry.”

“But then he found that mask,” Kiki points out, “And things were fine again.”

“Mask?” Shirayuki asks, prompting Kiki and Mistuhide to relay the story of the morning prank, while Obi added color commentary.  Shirayuki chimes in with a similar tale from Obi’s surprise arrival in Lyrias shortly, and the conversation swings to a rapid-fire recounting of various mask-based pranks that had happened over their time in Lyrias and the North. As they the two of them trade increasingly silly stories, Zen can’t help but feel a pang of envy at the ease in their relationship. They had spent so long together, it was no wonder they got along so well, especially since Obi…

“Back to topic at hand” Obi says, stacking the last of the now-clean dishes and breaking Zen’s train of thought, “I hope you now see that catching people is an integral part of my duties.”

“I don’t know,” Zen teases, shaking himself from his thoughts, “If it’s that important, maybe we should look into changing your title…”

“How about ‘Obi, Official Catcher of the Second Prince?’” Obi offers, dipping his voice and waving a soapy hand dramatically on the title. “It could have a nice ring to it.”

“But you haven’t caught me!” Zen protests.

“He has,” Mitsuhide and Kiki say in unison, “In Sereg.”

______

Although the adrenaline buzzing through his veins had finally started to subside once all his knights had returned to him, it was not until Touka had finally fallen to the ground that Zen realized it was finally over. He looked at his people – battered and bruised, but somehow all safe at his side. The sense of relief was overwhelming, leaving him trembling and grateful for the mercy of whatever gods had decided to spare them.  His strength rapidly draining, he quickly prioritizes what must be said.

At his side, Tariga sits, face soaked in blood and looking all the world like a lost child in this moment despite the immense bravery he and his twin just exhibited. “Tariga-dono,” he says softly, attracting the boy’s wide gaze, “Sleep and let your body recover.” The boy’s eyes widened at the Prince’s words, making him look even more lost, “At the very least, that’s where you should start from.”

Zen’s attention turned to his knights. “Obi, Kiki,” he smiles. “Good job…returning to my side.” He had known when he sent them after Tsubara that they would do everything they could to return to him, of course. But this was as close to war as he had ever known, and when Obi had not been with Kiki and Mitsuhide… he had worried.

Speaking of Mitsuhide, he had a few things to say to his aide after his uncharacteristically-risky behavior. “Mitsuhide,” he says, eyelids growing heavy. “You too…” He slumps, thoughts growing fuzzy, “Get your injuries…checked….”

As sleep rushes to claim him, he falls, but an arm reaches out to catch and cradle his aching body. Distantly, he hears people call for him, but surrounded by his knights, his friends, and held so securely, he just can’t bring himself to fight off his exhaustion any longer…

______

“That was you?!” Zen sputters, color once again rising up his neck to splotch his cheeks. There had been too many other loose ends to tie up in the aftermath of the Bergatt affair, so the mental note of determining the identity of who had caught him so he could thank them had fallen to the bottom of the list and eventually been all but forgotten.”

“Yes?” Obi admits, cautiously, stacking the last of the now-clean dishes and drying his hands on a towel, “Should I…not catch you next time?”

“No…just…” Zen gives up, burying his face in his arms with a flustered groan.

“There are others in Lyrias too, especially during the winters.” Shirayuki counts on her fingers as she lists more names, “Kirito, Yuzuri, new guards who try to climb the walls… Even Suzu during that one big snowstorm. Obi has pretty much caught everyone!”

“He hasn’t caught me” Mitsuhide blurts out, torn between feeling excluded and proud.

“Oooh! Are you jealous, Sir?” Obi teases, dancing over to bow dramatically over Mitsuhide’s hand, “Do you have a secret wish to be swept off your feet?” He laughs when Mitushide blushes red and yanks his hand away, “Don’t worry, Sir, I promise to catch you should your footing ever fail.”

______

“Has the South made you soft, Sir?”

Mitsuhide sighs, straightening from his tired slump against the wall. He should have known better than to take a break on the high walk – anything more than ten feet of the ground was Obi’s territory – but the combination of hard work and strong sunlight beating down on a wool jacket made for a sweaty and tiring start to the day.

“No,” he defends, retrieving his shovel from where he had plunged into a snowdrift. Although the weather in the North was notoriously unpredictable, a storm this far into the spring was unusual for Wilant, especially after the recent span of warm days.  “It’s just I didn’t expect to start my morning clearing out a half-foot of snow in April.”

“Soft!” Obi insists with a wink, but sets his own shovel to work hefting snow above the hip-height wall.

They work in silence for a few minutes, but Mitsuhide knows better than to hope it will last. He is grateful for the help, however, as the work passes quickly between the two of them. Even the sun seems to give him a break, as it slips behind the clouds.

“If it makes you feel any better, there’s probably at least a foot down in Lyrias,” Obi speculates, pausing to push gathered snow off the top of the wall as they clear the last of the walkway. “Last year we woke up to a two-foot storm in May. I swear sometimes I think someone cursed that poor town.”

“Don’t even mention snow in May,” Mitsuhide warns, stretching as he surveys the cleared walkway. “The gala is that month, and the last thing we need is people trying to get here in a blizzard.”

“Ah, true,” Obi winces, tapping his shovel against the bricks, “But I have to say, Sir, you do have quite a good shoveling technique! I guess Wistal did not steal all of your snow-clearing skills.”

“Of course not,” Mistuhide scoffs, heading back across the walk, “Back in Sereg we take snow removal seriously. And once you learn how to do it right, you – woaahhh!”

_____

“Ki-Kiki…I can explain!!!”

Withering under Kiki’s distinctly unimpressed stare, the entire story finally tumbles out of Mitsuhide. Although they had cleared the walkway of all the snow, apparently Mitsuhide had forgotten to clear off some of the snow from the wall on his side of the walkway. Since the sun was strong, the patch had started to melt and drip onto the walkway. Once it had slipped behind the clouds however, the damp patch had quickly refrozen in the winter-like chill and sent Mitsuhide sliding nearly over the edge of the high walk when he walked a bit too quickly over it. Obi, a few steps behind and on solid footing, had lunged to stop him from falling, pulling him back to safety but wrenching his wrist awkwardly in the process.

Shirayuki hovers behind Ryuu, watching with concern as he gently probes and bends Obi’s wrist. Her heart had been racing ever since Mitsuhide had burst into the lab, hauling an amused but surprisingly unresisting Obi behind him. Ryuu had taken one look at Obi, cradling his slightly swollen right wrist with his left, and pointed him wordlessly to a newly rearranged exam room.

While Ryuu handled the exam, Shirayuki had expended her initial nervous energy checking Mitsuhide over for injuries, then bustling around to gather towels, pain relieving herbs, and snow to make an ice pack. But now that everyone was dry and her supplies were gathered, she could do nothing but wait.

“It’s not broken, just badly sprained.” Ryuu finally declares, much to everyone’s relief, “But it is sprained pretty badly.”

“See?” Obi says, turning to address Mitsuhide, whom Kiki had finally released from her glare, “I told you it was just a sprain, nothing to worry about-”

“No using it for two weeks.” Ryuu interrupts, pinning Obi with a somber gaze. “Shirayuki, I will go write up the case notes. Can you get things ready to brace the wrist?”

“Wait - two weeks?! A brace??” Obi groans, deflating morosely against the exam table.

“We’ll get out of your hair and let Zen know that Obi is off duty for the rest of today, at least,” Kiki nods at Obi, who is currently fending off another round of apologies from Mitsuhide. “Zen is going to have a field day once he hears about this.”

After they leave, Obi sighs, but sits back up as Shirayuki approaches, “I guess I won’t be lugging any heavy objects around for you today.”

“Not for two weeks, you won’t be, unless you can lift it with one hand.” Shirayuki warns, handing him a packet of herbs and a glass of water. “Take these, they will help with the swelling and pain. We’re also going to ice it now for ten minutes while we get the brace ready, then three more times later today.”

“Two weeks with a brace, I will never live this down,” Obi whines, but submits as she gently places his wrist on the ice pack.  “Miss, how am I supposed to climb trees with a brace?”

“You aren’t, because I am asking you not to,” Shirayuki meets his gaze, determined green locking with gold. “You will listen to me, won’t you?”

“Ah Miss,” he smiles, in that soft way reserved just for her and Ryuu, and leans his forehead against hers. That unbalanced feeling curls in her stomach again. “What good is a knight if he doesn’t obey his lady?”

_____

Over lunch, once his wrist is braced, and he has, despite her and Ryuu’s objections, figured out a way to move boxes with one hand, Obi realizes something that makes him cackle with glee.

“Just think Miss,” Obi drawls, lips curving in a wicked grin, “now I have caught everyone, and once Sir realizes he will never live it down.”

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

I wish you would write a fic where... More of the Mystery fic with werewolf Obi! :D Maybe habits that carry over between forms that lead to shenanigans?

Part of Wild Song

Obi’s waiting at the edge of the village at dusk.

Shirayuki keeps her eyes on the tree line, the long shadows of the forest growing deeper the further evening takes hold. She doesn’t see him, but somethingabout the bond they formed, the bond she melded without really even knowing it,tells her he’s near; lurking, somewhere between shadows. He knows she’s looking for him, and amusement prickles through, tickling the inside of her skull.

“Ready?”

Shirayuki blinks, looking up at Claren. “Yes,” she says absently, “thank you.”

“Here we go!”

She’s bracedherself, she tells herself that she’s prepared, but as he takes the iron bar and pumps once, twice, three times before cold water gushes out from the spout and over herhands, she finds she is very much not ready. Grimacing,Shirayuki scrubs her hands quickly, bits of sticky blood and afterbirth washclean away. The edge of her skirt catches the splatter, and it clings to her stockings. Ugh, just what she needs for her walk home: soggy feet.

“Enough?”Claren looks over the pump at her, and Shirayuki gets the distinct impressionthat he’s laughing at her.

“Almost,”she grits out, her bones aching from the cold. Her nail catches on her thumb, not deep enough to cut just to make it feel like it has. “Ow.”

“I’ll makesure to warm it up for you next time, Duchess,” he teases.

“Don’t-” Shirayuki steps away, flinging the water from her fingertips and shoving them under herarm pits. “-call me that.”

He laughs, letting go, and the pump moves on its own for a few more rounds, the watertrinkling to a stop. “You know,” he begins, smiling oh so charmingly down ather. “It’s getting late. We could make a bed up for you here.”

“It’s alright,” she says, holding her hands out infront of her and clenching and unclenching them. “I have enough time and a lantern. I’ll manage.”

“I would feel bad, having you walk all that way by yourself in the almost dark,” he says, tooeager. “Maybe I could walk you home.”

Shirayuki smiles kindly, heading back over to where her satchel reclinesagainst the side of the house. “And then you would be forced to walk back inwhat will definitely be the dark.”

“It’s a risk he’d be willing to take,” an older woman’s voice calls frominside the house. Door screeching open, Maun leans her hip against thedoor frame. “Of course, you are more than welcome to keep him for the night ifyou’d like.”

Shirayuki’sface heats, and she fidgets with the strap on her shoulder. She doesn’t know why everyone in this town is so overly concerned with who her bedfellows are, but, glancing back, she is grateful that Claren is flushed just the same as she.

“Really,” Shirayuki mumbles. “Thank you for the offer, but I’ll be alright. Please let me know if there are any changes over the course of the night.This is Ama’s first babe and-”

“Please,” Maun flutters her hands at her. “I’ve had five of my own andmanaged just fine before you even started midwifing.”

Shirayuki averts her eyes, swallowing down the urge to sigh. It’s always like this. This town will trust her with any ailment, physical, magical or otherwise, but when it comes to childbearing- “I know, I just… want to be careful. That isall.”

“Of course you do.” Her voice warms, coming closer to wrap her in a hug. “Nowyou take care. I’ll have Claren bring by some chickens tomorrow to help pay thedebt from today. I’m sure that wolf of yours has nearly picked your flockclean. And, ah, you wouldn’t happen to need any tomatoes, would you?”

Shirayuki smiles. “I’m afraid I have an excess as well.”

“Drat!” Maun snaps her fingers, reaching down into one of her many pockets.“Then I guess I’ll have to part ways with this, then.”

Shirayuki stares at the little brick wrapped in wax paper, mouth slightlyagape. It’s too much to hope that it is what she thinks it is. “Is that-?”

“Hush,” Maun grins, wicked, and waves it under her nose. Shirayuki’s mouthwaters when she catches the fragrance seeping through. “If you say it, everychild in that house will be upon you in seconds.”

Shirayuki lowers her voice. “Where did you even get it?”

Maun winks. “Maurice just came back from the capital. Brought me a fewtreats.”

“Oh!” Shirayuki flusters. “I couldn’t take this. It was a gift!”

Maun tisks. “Don’t be insulting.” Taking her hand in hers, Maun flips her palmupward and deposits the little package in Shirayuki’s grasp. “I can do what Iwant with it. And don’t worry. I got more than that hidden away.I wouldn’t have given you everything.”

Shirayuki flushes. “Thank you.”

“Night isfalling. Off with ya,” she swats at her lightly and Shirayuki laughs, droppingthe little parcel in her bag and heading towards the gate. “Claren, say goodnight, lad.”

“Good night,Miss Shirayuki,” he says dutifully as she passes. “Come again soon.”

Shirayukiwaves, just as Maun calls out, “Don’t let that wolfof yours get to it, ya hear?”

Shirayuki glances over her shoulder, smiling. “I won’t!”

~ ~ ~

Shirayuki walks into the treeline, her unlit lantern and satchel swinging from her hip, and glances back behind her one more time. Delighted to see she’s alone, she reaches into her pockets and smiles at the little brick of chocolate. It must have cost Maurice a small fortune; she really shouldn’t accept more payment than a few chickens, but- peeling back the wax paper, Shirayuki presses her nose closer and takes in its fragrance. 

She feels a momentary twinge of guilt, followed by a hint of wickedness. Itwouldn’t do to ruin her appetite before dinner…

She breaks off a little section. Just a couple of pieces wouldn’t hurt.

Sliding the remainder back into her bag, Shirayuki nibbles off a square, letting it melt on hertongue. The thick flavor makes her toes curl, draws an involuntary smile across her lips, and her next steps have a decidedly more exuberant bounce to them.

Glancing into the forest, Shirayuki frowns a little. Still no Obi.

Rolling the chocolate around on her tongue, she mumbles to herself, “Where is he?” 

He’s been in the back of her head all day, skittering excitement at times -heart thrumming and cheer high - curious the next - and then locked in quiet contemplation or unbearable boredom atothers. The last two are more tenable, and the first makes her hands shake withnerves. It will take some time to get used to this, she knows, and she tries to ignore it. It feels invasive of her, to know someone on such alevel, but there is nothing to be done.

She reaches out, tries to touch him, to get a sense of where he might be or what he could be doing, but his mind is suspiciously quiet.

Maybe he took a nap?

Shirayuki shrugs. He’ll come. He can’t not.

It’s not until her first bite of chocolate has melted away to nothing and the road is a burnished gold beneath her feet, dry and dusty from so manydays with so little rain, that she feels a strange little itch. It tickles the back of her brain, darting across the edge of consciousness with mirthand excitement-

So it really comes as no surprise when Obi explodes from the underbrush allat once, a mass of fur and cold nose presses to her knees, her bags; wagginghis tail and prancing about her.

It’s so nice to have someone so excited to see her. “I was only gone for afew hours, Obi,” she laughs. “There’s no need for all of that.”

His tail pauses midway, tongue lolling out of his mouth when he tilts hishead and stares up at her. And then her vision blurs, the shadow of fur meltingaway and Shirayuki blinks rapidly, trying to shake away the befuddlement of his magic.

Her eyes come back into focus and, ah, at least he remembered to bring clothes with him this time.

“But Miss!” He’s tying the stays at his trousers and she politely looksaway. It gives him opportunity to move in closer than she would normally allow.“You were gone half a day!”

She laughs, pressing her hands to his chest and he takes a single stepback. He was learning the difference between polite distance as a human and animal. Not that well, but he was learning. “I told you that youcould come with me!”

He wrinkles his nose. “Human villages…”

She glances up at him, curious. “What?”

“They smell.”

That’s rich, considering how foul the nest of blankets he so loves can be. “You should still come with me next time,” she says.“Get to know the village. They still think I live with a half-tamed wolf.”

He flashes his teeth. “Let them.”

She rolls her eyes, sticking another piece of chocolate in her mouth.

He’s eyes hone in on it. “What’s that, Miss?”

He still too close to be staring at her mouth like that. “Chocolate,” she says, pushinghim away a little.

His ears are human in this form, but the way he dips his head and rounds his eyes makes her see them pressing low against his head all the same. “It smells really nice,” he sniffs. “Can I have some?”

Shirayuki nods, about to give him the last piece before she remembers. “Wait,” she pauses, pulling her hand back to her. “No.”

A noise not unlike a whimper echoes from deep in his throat.

“Maun told me not to feed it to you,” she explains. “I don’t think you caneat it.”

He adds a pout to convince her otherwise. “Why not?”

“Have you ever had it before?”

“No.”

“It’s not-” looks around cautiously, but no one else is on the trail this farfrom town. “You don’t feed it to dogs because they can get sick.”

Obi puffs up, affronted. “I’m not a dog!”

“I know!” she sputters. “But- you’re a wolf!”

His side rubs against hers, almost toppling her over. “Not right now I’m not!”

“But you are sometimes!” Shirayuki insists.

“Please?”

Shirayuki shakes her head, sticking the rest of the broken off piece in her mouth.

Obi whines, butting her with his head. “Miss.”

“I don’t want to risk it.” Shirayuki mumbles around the chocolate, quickening her step.

His face presses up close to hers, nose almost touching her mouth. 

“Obi!”she flushes, batting at him.

He doesn’t back down, tongue flicking out across her lips.

“Oh-!” Her back is suddenly to the tree, his mouth over hers, tonguesweeping past her lips and-

Shirayuki’s eyes flutter shut, her hands gripping at his shoulders and Obitakes the advantage, tongue no longer questioning but sure, flicking along theinside of her teeth, the roof of her mouth and when he groans, deep and satisfied, she’s not sureif its his body pressing against hers or her knees keeping her upright anymore.

Whimpering,she reaches up, carding her fingers through his hair. He growls softly, fingers at her hipsclenching for just a moment before he steps back, leaving herpanting and breathless.

“O- Obi?” she manages, eyelashes fluttering opening.

His chest is heaving against hers, smile bright and doggish from one ear to the other. “See Miss?” He toucheshis mouth, throat flexing in a swallow. “Not sick.”

~ ~ ~

“Miss!”

Shirayuki slams the door shut in Obi’s face, closes her wards to seal him out, and thenslides the lock into place for good measure.

Unfortunately, she never learned how to seal out noise.

“Miss!” Obi calls, and she thinks he is actually pawing at the door with human nails. “Did you forget? I am still outside?”

Tearing her scarf from her head, Shirayuki stomps into the kitchen. Grabsthe pitcher of water and pours herself a tall glass. Taking a long drink, squishes the water between her teeth vigorously, glaring at the front door just as a not-quite-human, not-quite-wolf howl bleedsthrough the door. “Miss? MISS??”

She patiently ignores him, filling up another glass and turns towards thestove. There’s still enough stew left over from last night that she needs to dono more than heat it up. Then she can sit down by the fire and have a nice cupof tea in silence for once-

“MIIIIIISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!”

…in relative silence, for once.

She must make a noise, because his whining stops cold. And then there isthe scramble of feet on boards, moving across the front porch.

His head pokes into view through one of her front windows, wide eyes scanning the empty room before disappearing again.

Taking a slow sip of her water, she watches Obi moving from one window toanother, peering through the glass he can’t touch, and occasionally yelping when his nose comes too close. When hereaches the kitchen, his eyes immediately lock onto hers, and the worry on his face turning torelief. “Miss!” his voice is muffled through the planes of glass. “Do you seeme? Do you see your Obi? I am outside, Miss!”

Shirayuki crosses the room towards the window and his smile grows brighter,grows blinding.

“You can! You can see me! I’mso happ-”

She closes the curtains.

“MISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS,” he howls. “MISS I’M HERE.”

~ ~ ~

It’s later.Much later. When his cries give way to dejection, whimpering fading to silence,and Shirayuki feels his shift in not so much pain buta strange tingling down her skin, a pleasant feeling that leaves the hair onthe back of her arms sticking up.

She sighs,leaning over her workstation and massaging her temples. Her ears ache with relief.

The silencedrags on for a bit longer, the sound of paws padding sedately outside and thesniffling of a nose pressed up against the door, and Shirayuki feels a slightpinch. A moment of guilt. Surely, he has learned his lesson by now. And if hisbehavior was anything to go off of, he’s lived his life mostly wild. He couldn’tknow what he did- couldn’t understand…

A howl drags out, impossibly loud and near and so acute that she’s certainher ears are going to bleed.

Right. Forgiveness cancelled.

The howling stops, cut off mid-song, and distress of a new kind bleedsthrough their link. Shirayuki perks up, frowning.

Nails scramble against boards, and he coughs, a painful hacking noises, oneright after the bother in quick succession.

Getting up from her chair, she opens the door, staring out into the darkedges of the forest.

And there’s a huge black wolf, tail tucked between his legs and head downlow, circling her front yard. There’s a bit of shine to the grass not thatfar from him, and he looks up at her pitifully, mouth a little frothy at theedges.

Shirayuki sighs.

“Go on,” she encourages. “Eat the grass. And don’t say I didn’t warn youthat this would happen.”

[sabraeal]

Desert & Reward: Chapter 6

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Obiyuki Week, Day 1: Pragma Practical love, founded on reason or duty

Obi is buzzing when he steps back into that darkened room, every nerve prickling under his skin like the air before lightning strikes. Not even velvet and down can muffle the feeling; it’s worse when he feels it settle against it his back, when he stares up at the ceiling and his body remembers a night just like this, a conversation so different from this one --

He worried then, how he would bear it. How he’d live with a heart in his chest. Ha. Ha.

In three days time, he’ll be married. To Miss. Unimaginable to that boy in a bed three sizes too large for him, to that boy in the biggest bed he’d ever had.

Until he became a lord. His head aches. How did he even let himself get here, how did he get himself tied in so tight with all these princes and titles and intrigues?

He rolls to his side, letting his eyes drift shut. In three days time, he’ll be married --

But he’ll never be a husband.

Against all expectation, Obi sleeps.

Sleeps. Not a fitful doze, woken up every hour by some noise, a lump in his lump-less mattress, or an intrusive thought but -- an actual full night of rest, the sun sitting high outside his window when he finally wakes to the soft sounds of drawers and doors opening and closing, of cloth being pulled out and then hurriedly put away.

Obi blinks, lets out a four-letter groan, and mutters, “Is it after ten?”

“We’re at court,” Yori tells him in his entirely unnecessary way. He putters about, industriously picking out something for him to disagree with before breakfast. “Mr Morel said I was to have you keep city hours, though he begs that you do not get used to it.”

The idea of “getting used” to regular sleep would have him on the ground, if this bed wasn’t so damn comfortable. Instead, he rolls himself upright, feet dangling over the carpet. The pattern marks it as Watese; just as out of place here as he is. “Morel would rather keel over from an aneurysm than beg anything from me.”

Yori clucks, affecting the sort of shock that reminds him of a softer, more lined face. That he's homesick for any part of the south surprises him, but that fact that it’s Mrs Carre at least takes the sting out of it. “You are his lord. Mr Morel is ready to accommodate your every whim.”

Hilarious. Amazing that the kid could say it with a straight face. “Like you?”

“Of course, my lord.”

“Well, in that case...” He plucks the cravat laid so neatly on the bed, and tosses it. It flutters, like a bird with a broken wing, before crumpling on the floor. “I won’t be wearing that.”

Yori stares at it as if one of the barn cats has brought in a less-than-lively gift. “Well,” he says, so mild, “I can’t allow my lord to embarrass himself either.”

He can’t help the way his lips spread, the way his teeth bare, the way even muscle of him coils like he’s spoiling for a fight.

“Which is it, Yori?” he presses, waggling his eyebrows in challenge. “You can’t have both.”

“--And that is all they were able to come up with.” His Majesty settles back in his chair, head tilted back, long fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. “A list of encryption that it cannot be.”

Obi pulls at his cravat, tied punishingly tight. He should know better than to antagonize domestics -- they always win. “Well, knowing where not to look is almost as good as knowing where to look.”

“Almost,” His Majesty agrees. “But not quite.”

The king has always seemed young to Obi, especially when he’s always next to lords and councilors that could have been his father, but the way his shoulders round in as he sits, the way small lines crinkle at the edge of his eyes --

He looks his age. Older maybe.

It’s almost too intimate seeing him like this, seeing him frustrated, and Obi drags his gaze down, staring at the list in his lap. Nearly two dozen clerks working for months, and all that they’ve made is a list of things they don’t know.

“I am sorry though.”

He blinks up from the list, head tilted. “Sorry?”

From beneath lidded eyes, midnight blue stares back at him, fixed. “Of course. I hate to be wasting your time when you have such a happy occasion to prepare for.”

Only His Majesty could make it sound like an accusation, a challenge. Obi shifts in his seat, glad that he wore the stupid cravat -- now, at least, the king wouldn’t see the guilty flush working its way up his neck. “No trouble at all, Elder Highness. I’ve been told it’s all well in hand, so --”

“But surely you have some preparations of you own to make.” His Majesty slides a pointed gaze over his jacket, his trousers. “Fittings for your new clothes, at least.”

Obi stares. “My what?”

A smile curls dangerously on his mouth. “Oh my. It seems there’s some work to do yet, Lord Obi.”

The thing is: he has clothes. Nice ones, trunks full of them, all made from fabrics he can hardly pronounce and animals he’s only vaguely aware of. Damask. Jacquard. Ermine. Vulcana. There can’t be a need for more.

“It’s not about having clothes, my lord.” Yori speaks with the sort of impatient patience that implies that sainthood is certain from this conversation alone. “It’s about having the right clothes.”

He has more clothes in those trunks than he’s had the whole rest of his life put together, even as Master’s aide. “I have a dozen types of pants.”

“Trousers,” Yori corrects, weary. “And none of these are meant for a wedding, let alone your own.”

Life was easier when any fancy party just required him to wear dress blacks. “Then what are they for?”

“Oh I don’t know,” his valet drawls, flicking pointedly through endless black. “Perhaps a funeral?”

Obi pulls his mouth thin, trying to stretch his spine, to gain a few imperious inches. Yori remains unimpressed. “I doubt His Majesty has to put up with this from his valet.”

“His Majesty owns a pair of pantaloons,” Yori claps back flatly. “And knows about colors outside of a monochromatic scale. Yesterday, I saw his pocket square was scarlet.”

Obi refuses to believe that he might have a point.

“Black,” he starts, “is always in fashion --”

“Fine,” Yori concedes with a sigh, eyeing the mess of finery littered across the room. Every flat surface has been press-ganged into service, waistcoats and jackets and all conceivable level of pants and hosiery have been strewn over them, a gallery of unworn clothes his new life has acquired without his knowing.

Any of his old clothes -- his black pants, the filmy black shirts, his good boots -- are suspiciously absent. Obi doubts it’s an accident.

“I’ll grant you the black suit.” Yori’s tone implies it would be easier to give up his first child than this. “But only if you will have a colored waistcoat.”

Obi lets a sharp smile pull at his lips. “If you insist --”

“Not including the brown wool,” he amends quickly, casting a dubious look at the thing. “No wool at all. And a real color. Watered silk or finer.”

Victory has never tasted so sweet. “Then I think we’ve come to a harmonious --”

The door knocks so hard it rattles.

Yori’s eyes dart to his, ask him a question he doesn’t know how to answer. No, he doesn’t know who this is; yes, it could very well bee a majesty or a highness or a your grace.

Somehow, when he hadn’t been watching, that became his life.

Reluctant, Yori turns toward the door, moving jerky, slow, like broken clockwork. “I...suppose I’ll get that, my lord.”

Obi bites down, caging the no, please behind his teeth. It wouldn’t do him any good; he’s served Wistal for far too long to think he can avoid what’s on the other side of that door by keeping it shut.

It opens, revealing dark hair, a casual lean, and a rugged scar right across an equally rough nose. He knew he should have kept that door closed.

“Good, you’re already halfway to naked,” Shidnote drawls smugly, sauntering into the room like he owns it, casting an appreciative eye over the tornado of finery that litters the room. “Saves us some time.”

Yori casts an anxious look between them. “Should I--? Are you --?”

“It’s Sir Shidnote.” His Majesty’s me. Obi bites back a grimace. “His Majesty’s aide.”

The looks shifts from anxious to accusatory; his valet far too well trained to blurt it out now, but Obi can see that he had perhaps -- perhaps -- been remiss in relaying his exact position at court.

“Well, we can’t all parley our connections to a title,” Shidnote notes, as if he isn’t a count of somewhere, like his use of sir isn’t just considered an eccentric affectation of some country noble at this point. “In any case, are you coming, Sir Obi?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Just where am I supposed to be going?”

“His Majesty said you needed new clothes, didn’t he?” His mouth twitches at the corners, ominously. “Well, in his infinite generosity, he asked a personal favor of his most favorite tailor, and now you have an appointment to be prodded with the same pins that touch his royal ass.”

Shidnote is enjoying this far too much.

He gives a mocking bob, holding out a hand toward the door, his grin so wide it crinkles his scar. “Now, I’m sure you’d just love to come this way, my lord.”

“I couldn’t possibly,” Obi hems, giving the man’s hands a wide berth. “The wedding -- it’s hardly two days away, and --”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that, Sir Obi,” Shidnote drawls, arm hooking around his shoulders like a vice. “His Majesty’s got is so everything will be ready in a real hurry. Practically shutting down the shop to dress you.”

Obi just manages a, “How…thoughtful.”

“Oh yeah,” Shidnote says, in something just more subdued than a crow. “Izana’s got a whole lot of those.

He expects Yori to be there – after all, he is Obi’s valet, and he gives him a token amount of control over his sartorial choices, even if he tends to nix three-quarters of them. What he does not expect, not at all, is –

“Well,” Kiki hums, steam curling off her tea, legs crossed, “I don’t think even the maestro will be able to fit you with all those clothes on.”

He spins on his heel, the door barely a meter away but Zakura catches him, using those few extra inches to keep him firmly planted on the carpet.

“Come on now, Sir Obi,” he grunts, the both of them struggling at the door. “Take your fittings like a man.”

“You get undressed with a peanut gallery,” Obi growls back, straining against their deadlock. “I’m sure I have something frilly enough in a trunk somewhere.”

“You don’t,” Kiki deadpans, “unless you want to make a wedding suit entirely out of shoulder capes, so I’m told.”

Obi glares at his traitorous valet, but Yori remains unrepentant – even if he does angle Miss Kiki and her seat between them. “They’re dashing.”

“Is that what Shirayuki says?” Kiki inquires mildly, eyebrows twitching above her teacup. “Come on, it’s bad enough it’s last minute, and there’s so much to do.”

Obi relents, stalking over to where the dais lurks, unassuming. He knows better; people with pins and opinions use these things. “It’s just a wedding suit.”

Three pairs of eyes settle on him, a mix of pity and incredulity.

“Oh no,” Kiki says, setting down her cup. “You don’t just need a wedding suit.”

“But I have clothes,” Obi insists as the racks are wheeled out, endless trousers and waistcoats and cravats surrounding him. “Even things for parties –“

“You need new ones,” Kiki tells him, firm. “Ones that aren’t entirely black.”

“I have waistcoats –“

“Of watered silk in solid colors,” she finished, unenthused. “I’ve heard. Not enough.”

Obi huffs, shoulders rounding. “I just don’t see why I need one for lunch and for the wedding and for breakfast –“

“Oh, that’s just to start,” Kiki says, “wait until you hear about your honeymoon wardrobe.”

“My --?” He turns, fixing Shidnote with a glare. “Just what are you doing?”

The man’s dropped his hulking form down into a chair, looking for all the world like he’s just stumbled into a dramatic, personal duel. “Oh, just taking in the show. Don’t mind me.”

“I don’t --”

“Don’t worry, Sir Zakura,” Kiki drawls, corner of her lips twitching, “I’m used to ignoring useless commentary.”

He’s given a reprieve around the time that food should be coming into the picture – which of course is another thing people want to discuss with him, though that at least sounds pleasant. Being plied with a hundred hors d’oeuvres while the maestro and his team frantically stitch together the first of his clothes sounds like the sort of break he can get behind, even if he is under strict instructions not to gain weight – not a single pound, sir, the Maestro had impressed up him, it might ruin the lay of your trousers.

A great pity, Miss Kiki sympathizes, entirely too amused.

Obi picks at his shoulder, certain there’s still pins trapped there, feeling them prick wherever his shirt brushes against his skin.

“Must you be so dramatic?” Kiki sighs as they take the corner, scowling as his shoulder twitch, trying to dislodge any wayward pins.

“I can feel them,” he insists. “They’re right --”

And that, of course, is when Her Majesty turns the corner, her gaggle of young maids bobbing behind her like ducklings trailing their mother. He tenses, taking in the pleased curl of her smile, the way her eyes light when she makes him at the other end of the hall, and he can’t understand why, not until –

Not until her ladies part, just so, and he catches red flash between their finery, and those wide, familiar eyes --

“Obi!” A small hand darts out, grasping at his arm, just below the elbow – “Ow!”

“Oh, Miss! I --” He watches her pluck one of those wicked pins from his sleeve. “From the fittings. I think they’re all over. I’m a very handsome trap, I know.”

She giggles, ducking her head. “Me too. I think --”

“Lady Shirayuki, it’s about time --”

“Obi, we’re on a schedule --”

He meets her eyes with a grin. He leans in, muttering, “I heard the groom wasn’t supposed to see the bride before the wedding, but this is ridiculous.”

She flushes red, but smiles back, leaning in –

Her Majesty comes up behind her, guiding her forward with a firm hand about her waist, only moments before Kiki does the same, just – less gentle.

“You’ll have plenty of time to see each other,” the queen promises with an arch smile. “…On your wedding night.”

He stumbles at that, and by the time he’s recovered, Miss has been firmly swept away, only close enough to meet his gaze before they turn the next corner.

“Come on,” Kiki grunts, shoving him. “We don’t have time for this.”

“I should be about to see my fiancée alone,” he grouses, “let alone with a half dozen chaperones in a hallway.”

“Nope.” Kiki pushes him along, towards the delicious aromas wafting down the hall. “You’re a disaster.”

“What, afraid we’d find some way to cancel it?” he taunts, pulling himself to his full height so he can properly loom. “Two of us alone together, there’s nothing we can’t –“

“No,” she sighs, rolling her eyes. “If we leave you alone, Shirayuki will find some way to get you to elope.”

“I think the fit is wrong on the trousers,” Kiki drawls, holding out her cup for one of the assistants to fill. “Do you have a cut that’s tighter?”

“Tighter?” Obi yelps. “What, do you want them to paint them on?”

“If they must,” she informs him mildly. “Anyway, maestro – tighter?”

“Of course, my lady,” the man says, scurrying off.

“You’re indecent,” Obi accuses, only half joking.

She lifts her brows, pointed. “I’m fashionable. And if you have the thighs to pull it off, I’m not quite sure why you’re complaining.”

His mouth pulls thin. “I have a valet, you know. I can dress myself.”

“I was under the distinct impression having a valet meant you didn’t dress yourself.” She sets down her cup. “Besides, he’s paid to agree with you.”

Funny, how that has never come up in his time with his. “Yori, what do you think?”

Yori looks like he might faint from the attention. “Whatever pleases you, my lord, I’m sure will be --”

“You don’t need to impress me with obedience, sir,” Kiki informs him. “I’ve already seen him dress himself for four years.”

“Hey –“

“Oh, in that case.” Yori’s eyes narrow, taking in the roominess of the trouser. “Tighter, definitely.”

The luncheon is billed as an informal affair, but Obi’s been in Wistal long enough to know what that means: look as fancy as you can, but don’t look like you’re trying. He’d tried to pitch his normal trousers, loose and comfort, but he’d hardly gotten a word in before Kiki had said, buckskins, and now here he is, in a pair that was cut to please everyone but him.

Miss’s hand burns even through his coat, and when she squeezes it, reassuring, he’s sure his knees wobble, just the slightest bit.

“You look very nice,” she murmurs, body swaying into his as they take their seat at the head table, just the two of them. He’d worried that she wouldn’t be able to do this, play the pleased, loving fiancee, but in the palest pink silk and lace, her eyes gazing up at him so wide and earnest --

He almost forgets that this is all just an -- an arrangement.

“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” he teases, sliding in her chair. “It’s my job to tell you how pretty you look first.”

She flushes, ducking her head to hide it. “I thought it might be nice for you to hear it for once.”

His hands clench on his thighs, slick. “Miss is too kind. I’ll get spoiled if you keep up like this.”

Her hand tangles with his beneath the linens. “Good.”

“Shirayuki!”

They startle apart, glancing up to see who calls out --

“Garrack.” Miss goggles, cheeks flushed. “I didn’t know you were invited.”

Garrack is hardly dressed much different than normal, save the lack of a white coat. True to form, she took the invitation at face value, and is wearing the sort of smug expression that says she knows exactly how much it’s annoying the glittering crowd behind her.

“I may be lacking the heap of titles that usually is a prerequisite to these things, but I have one that matters.” She grins, all teeth. “It seems these nobles are a superstitious lot. They treat Chief Pharmacist like it means Head Evil Fairy and invite me to everything, just in case. I usually do them the courtesy of declining, but --” her eyes run knowingly over the both of them -- “how could I miss the luncheon of my favorite student?”

Miss demures, flushing all the way to the tips of her ears, and Obi can’t help himself -- “Higata will be heartbroken.”

“Oh, he knows where he stands,” Garrack says, nonchalant. “I hope you don’t mind, Shirayuki, but I know you won’t have much time the next few days, so if we could...?”

“Oh!” Miss gives him an apologetic look. “Do you mind? I didn’t have time to send a report before I left Wilant.”

His chest tightens, thinking about the hurry she had left in to make it here before him, how she must have left the lab in complete disarray -- “Don’t worry,” he manages with a warm smile. “I’ll hold down the fort.”

He watches her go, swaying through the crowd as Garrack leads her onto the balcony, the only place where it’s possible for them to have privacy.

“I suppose I’m obliged to congratulate you on your happy nuptials.”

He drags his gaze away, letting them fix on black hair and bird-blue eyes. Kihal looks as comfortable in her dress as he does in his trousers. “Though I hope you know, Shirayuki’s a saint to take you.”

“You know, I’m a bit vague on the whole…peerage bit. But marquis does outrank countess doesn’t it?” His widens his eyes, so innocent. “Why, am I your liege lord?”

“Thankfully not,” she bites out, “gods forbid. And to think, you’ll kiss Shirayuki with that mouth.”

He won’t, but there’s no need for her to know that. “Jealous?”

“You wish.” Her smile turns sly as she gives the balcony a pointed perusal. “Or maybe not.”

He doesn’t deign to give an answer, not when they both know it so well.

“I suspect you must recognize the room,” Kihal begins, in a completely different tone.

“Not even slightly,” he admits. “This was all arranged by your soon-to-be beloved brother. I could put names to faces if I tried, but...”

“Is that so?” He voice is deceptively light. “It seems like half the south is here. Not the Forenzos, of course, they never come to anything, but everyone else...”

Obi looks out over the room -- Count Luigis there, half the coast over there --

“They must be quite pleased,” she remarks, “after all, a margravine? From Tanbarun? What opportunities that will open up.”

“There you are.” Master steps up beside her, hand solicitously at her back. Kihal leans back into it, just slightly; it’s not a conscious move, but one that shows their ease with one another. Obi cannot help but wonder just what Master has been doing with these years in Wistal. “I see you’ve rushed to give Obi your congratulations.”

Kihal’s mouth twitches, fighting the urge to scowl. “Something like that.”

“I’ve been trying to make my way over for the past quarter of an hour,” Zen admits, “but my brother keeps throwing people at me.”

“Funny,” Obi drawls, gaze fixed on him. “Been a lot of that, lately. Must run in the family.”

Zen stares at him, cheeks flushed. “Obi--”

“You boys can talk later,” Kihal sighs, tugging at Zen. “Let’s go give our congratulations to Shirayuki now.”

“I want to see the green again,” Kiki says, head balanced on two fingers. “And maybe that gold. And the scarlet, there on that rack, with the white.”

“My lady,” Yori interjects nervously. “My lord prefers darker –“

“Your lord’s entire wardrobe is black,” she drawls, flipping through the rack that been rolled over to her. “His opinion is invalid.”

“He’s still standing here,” Obi reminds her.

“And he’s going to try on the scarlet damask with the white suit.” Her eyebrows tilt in challenge. “Isn’t he?”

Obi deflates. “Yes.”

Yori stares at Kiki like she’s revealed herself to be superhuman, and angel in human guise. “I think the gold, my lady.”

Kiki considers the suggestion. “And definitely the gold as well.”

It’s only meal service that brings Miss back to his side; once she leaves her impromptu meeting with Garrack, she barely makes it more than five steps total, completely overrun with well-wishers and old acquaintances. Obi makes more than one attempt to reach her -- after all, if they’re going to sell this whole happy couple thing, they might try being within arm’s reach -- but he’s ambushed by his own parade of speculative mamas and young bucks eager for tonight.

“My, my.” It takes everything not to jump at the words, spoke too close. His Majesty emerges from behind him, champagne bubbling in his flute and smile curling one edge of his lips. “You’ve been quite busy, haven’t you?”

“From what I’ve been hearing, I’ll be busier tonight.” Obi takes a moment to sip at his own drink. “Is there some wedding tradition I’m missing?”

“Why, I thought you of all people would know.” His Majesty looks uncomfortably close to gleeful. “Isn’t it considered common for young grooms to go out before their wedding night, drink unlikely amounts of alcohol --?”

“A stag night?” he yelps. “This is -- they’re talking about my stag night?”

And eyebrow lifts, challenging. “Surely you didn’t think my brother would be remiss in his duties.”

“No...” He’d just thought it would be a think only commoners did, something Master only knew about from slumming with the guardsmen, not --

Not some grand soiree, inviting every nobleman old enough to hold his liquor and young enough to enjoy it. He’d expected Master and Mister and maybe even Miss Kiki, but this --

“Why, even I have to admit I’m eager to see what he’s come up with,” His Majesty drawls.

Obi stares. “You...you’re....to...?”

“Of course.” He steps closer, expression shuttering to something far more serious. “Though we’ll have some far more pressing business to take care of before then.”

“What else could there be?”

His mouth pulls flat, expression guarded. “Why, the marriage contract, of course.” His Majesty fixes him with a meaningful look. “Tanbarun will be....eager to see it, when all this comes out.”

[danceswithseatbelts]

Agape

Prompt: Agape (Agape is universal, unconditional love; used to describe the love for strangers, nature, and god, as well as the love for a parent for a child or between spouses; also known as a “love feast.”)I’m tackling the prompts by challenging myself ~ keeping it to 5 sentences ^^

Obi x Shirayuki Week

AnS Fandom

><><><>< 

"This is magical," enthused Shirayuki as she stood next to the mist coming off the roiling torrent of water. "I've never seen a prettier waterfall! Thanks for taking the time to show me, Obi."

Obi smiled and captured Shirayuki in his warm embrace. "Thank you for letting me.”

[snowwhite-andtheknight]

Obiyukiweek Round Up, Day 6: Storge

Art/Edits

Little Miss by @aika-p

Storge by @glitterberry

Fanfic

Shadow in a Glass, Chapter 6 by @claudeng80

Storge by @danceswithseatbelts

After You, Chapter 3 by @ruleofexception

Stumptown, Chapter 3 by @superhappybubbleslove

Growing Pains by @thacatwhogrins

[glitterberry]

Obiyuki Week | Day 3: Agape universal, unconditional love.

[thecatwhogrins]

Storge (Growing Pains)

A continuation of my Pragma fic (day 1 of obiyukiweek18), this is a pretty long one haha Enjoy!

When you spend a lot of time with someone, you tend to notice some of their mannerisms. And before long everything about them is engraved inside your heart.

*

Obi had not expected this woman to be his bride.

The bride had entered the church gracefully, her father at her arm. The father was visibly emotional but trying very hard not to show it. The veil hid her face, but Obi could just make out a splash of red under the and pearls. He didn’t know her temperament, so, for all he knew, Lord Haruka had arranged for Obi to marry with the most frivolous, senseless woman in Tanbarun. He wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case, as Lord Haruka had always detested him.

He had met enough nobility during his years serving Zen to know how they thought. Backstabbing was their currency, opportunity-grabbing and money-grubbing were there ways of life. Of course, there had been exceptions. But the general rule did apply to most of them.

Would this woman be any different?

She finally arrived in front of him, the veil still in place, the crowd silent. Obi, who usually was very calm, suddenly felt nervous. Would this woman be disappointed upon seeing him? She probably had enough suitors to fill a village; surely there was someone she liked amongst them. She might even be angry, he had robbed her of her freedom, however unwillingly he did so. To marry this lowly knight was probably not how she had envisioned what her future would be. Would he be worthy enough?

Panic started bubbling up inside of him, but he suppresses it down quickly. He had resolved himself to this. He couldn’t go back on his word so easily.

Nervously, his hands lifted, trembling towards her veil.

Nervously, he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

Nervously, he lifted her veil.

The eyes that met him from under the veil arrested him.

They were pale green, the color of fresh snowdrops. Hair the color of the sunset. Freckles constellating her nose bridge and red cheeks. And the most beautiful smile he had ever laid eyes upon.

A smile he had seen from afar many a times during official balls and parties. Of course, as his duty was to remain by his master’s side, he hadn’t been able to get acquainted with the red-headed beauty. Had someone told him that the owner of the smile would be his wife, he would have laughed. But here he was, standing in front of her.

“Hello, sir Obi,” she whispered.

It was as though someone had set Obi ablaze.

*

Shirayuki had not expected this man to be her husband.

The whole way down the aisle, her heartbeat thundering away, her imagination had run wild. She only knew the man’s name. But what of his humor? His likes and deslikes? She had met her fair share of nobility during her years attending parties with her mother and father and had thus learned what nobles were like. Mukaze, her father, was a jovial man who knew most people at the gatherings. This gave the opportunity for Shirayuki to be acquainted to most of the elite of Tanbarun and Clarines.

She had learned that on both sides, most of them thought highly of themselves. They cared very much for how they looked and what others might think of them. The men preen and dress in their finery. The women gossip and backstab.

Shirayuki had always felt slightly out of step within this crowd. Her love for reading and medicinal plants had always made her the target of mockery. Of course, after a while she had learned to conceal her hobbies and to become as cunning as them. She had told her sisters to beware, to keep their wits about them, never show their weaknesses. Nobles were ruthless.

Would this man be any different?

Nervous, she decided to calm down and continue down this path she had set upon. She pictured her sisters’ and parents’ faces in her mind’s eye and found that she was content.

When she finally reached the altar, with trepidation she waited for her husband-to-be to lift her veil, as it impeded her view. From what she could see, he was tall and slim and was wearing dark colors.

The crowd settled down and silence reigned, as if the whole world was holding its breath.

The veil finally lifted and before her eyes stood Sir Obi.

Golden eyes met hers inside a poker face framed by glossy black hair that had been obviously smoothed back. Slightly sun kissed skin and nervous hands came into view as well as a smart dark costume, finely tailored to his tall frame. Above his brow, a scar. In fact, wherever she could skin peeking through, there was a scar. This was so different from the smooth perfect skin of the nobles that she was accustomed to.

She knew this man. She had seen a few times at the fancy dinner parties she had been to. He had always been apart from the other party revelers, standing in a shadowy alcove somewhere, never far away from prince Zen of Clarines. She had always found his lonely figure to be strangely alluring, but she never had the opportunity to meet him, she had always been pulled away to meet another of her father’s friends.

This man that she had seen so many times before but had never been introduced to would be her husband.

It seemed fate was determined for them to meet.

Before she could stop herself, blushing, she whispered: “Hello, Sir Obi.”

Much to her surprise, he blushed as well.

*

After their vows had been made before the gods, Shirayuki’s hand had been placed in Obi’s. Obi’s hand was warm, strong. Shirayuki was not afraid anymore.

The silver bands shone upon their fingers, proof that they were now husband and wife. They turned towards the crowd that started to applaud. Shirayuki’s sisters started to cry, while her parents also seemed to be wiping tears. On Obi’s side of the aisle, Zen, Kiki and Mitsuhide were all smiling proudly. Obi smiled back at them.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

*

The ride home was silent but pleasant.

Obi sat opposite Shirayuki in the carriage. She observed him, trying to figure out what to say.

Obi finally broke the silence.

“If… if this wedding is not satisfactory for you, if you have someone else you’d rather be with, I’d be willing to…” Obi is searching for his words, fumbling.

“Sir Obi, I shall stop you right there. This alliance will benefit the people I love and that’s all that matters to me. I don’t intend to go back on my vows that easily. Will you?” her words almost sounded like a challenge to Obi and he found himself smiling a bit in admiration.

“No, indeed, that would be improper. But what of your heart? I could never detain someone who’s heart yearns for another,” he says this with eyes averted.

Her answering smile is dazzling.

“Thank you for worrying about my heart, but I can safely say it is mine for the time being.”

*

Relationships are like flowers.

Well, that was what Shirayuki thought anyway.

To let it bloom you must nurture it, expose it to the sun, but not too much. Sprinkle it with water. Brush away the dead leaves.

And then, you must be patient.

When it came to Obi, being gentle and patient was the key. Let him open himself up naturally, never forcing him, much like a stray cat.

After the wedding, Shirayuki had settled in her new room. Obi had escorted her to her chamber and with a nervous smile, had bid her goodnight and had closed her door. As usual, when it came to nobility, her room was separated from her husband’s. She had not minded at first, it gave her an opportunity to acclimate herself to her new environment. They had not consummated their marriage, but she did not mind this either. They spent time together during breakfast, lunch and dinner, if Obi was not busy helping prince Zen.

Slowly but surely, they settled in a comfortable rhythm, getting acquainted slowly over their silverware. She found that they could speak as equals, as friends, and that Obi was very funny and that his cooking was surprisingly exquisite. When he was nervous, he would squeeze his shoulder or pass a hand through hair.

It became a peaceful, relaxed, daily routine.

Outside of his work, Obi started to spend more and more time with Shirayuki.

She spent her days writing to her sisters and reading her botanical books but soon she ran out of those. When he had learned she loves medicinal books he had not scoffed, nor did he wave it off as being ridiculous. On the contrary, he had showed an interested in what she read and did. When he was not by Zen’s side, he was by hers, watching intently and ready to help her with whatever she needed.

These were sunny days, filled with the smell of earth and Obi’s presence by her side, him sitting on the windowsill while she scribbled in her books.

It was as easy as breathing.

*

When Hana came to visit Shirayuki a few months after the wedding, she had been amazed at the size of the manor in which her sister now lived. She had ogled the giant chandelier and the sweeping staircase with wide eyes.

A valet had announced Hana’s arrival and had bid her to wait in a small parlor adjacent to her sister’s bedroom. Hana looked at a small marble bust distractedly, tempted to touch the cold stone but had quickly hid her hand when her sister appeared, Sir Obi walking by her side.

Hana was immediately amazed by how right they looked together. Then she was even more amazed at the looks they were giving each other. Clearly, they cared for each other dearly, any blind man could see this. And Hana was far from blind. In fact, her mother had always told her she saw too much and that she shouldn’t stick her nose in other peoples’ business.

Oh, but how tempting it was.

Hana held her tongue and waited to be introduced to her sister’s husband. He greeted her gallantly and bid them all farewell, as he had business to attend to in the castle.

Upon seeing the pleased look on Shirayuki’s face, Hana giggled.

“It seems to me that you are quite happy with this arrangement, sister,” she nagged.

Shrayuki stuck out her tongue playfully and answered, teasing: “Yes, I am quite content.”

Shirayuki laughed happily and opened the door to her chambers.

“Hana, come inside, let us have some tea,” she said.

Hana entered the room and let out a cry of pleasure and surprise.

“He even let you have all your plants with you! The madman!”

*

When you spend a lot of time with someone, you tend to notice some of their mannerisms.

For example, Shirayuki always taps her pen against the tip of her nose before writing something down in her notebook. She also fidgets with her hair when she gets nervous. She doesn’t handle spicy food very well but will always try something new, when offered.

And before you know it, everything about them becomes familiar, from the way they sneeze to the way they laugh, it all becomes ingrained in you, branded inside your heart.

Obi had always been a rather observant person, it came with his job description. He always had to be aware of everything that happened around him, be in tune with his target.

But with Shirayuki, it came to him as naturally as breathing. He knew when she was about to fall asleep and when something was troubling her. When she needed to ask him something, there would always be a pause, a moment of silence, as though she hesitated before asking. That moment disappeared as time went by. He could sense her opening up to him. He tried to do the same for her, even though it was hard for him to share his past.

This, of course, took a long time.

At first, he had been afraid of what she might think of him, of how her perception of him would change. But one day, while he told her a story from his dark days, his rogue days, he had looked back at her, only to find her crying silent tears. She had held him in her arms afterwards for what seemed to be an eternity.

Obi realized that he was also crying.

Forgiveness and redemption had never been in Obi’s cards before, but he now discovered that all he had needed was a gentle soul that wouldn’t judge. Someone who would simply listen.

Obi found himself attracted to Shirayuki like a sunflower to the sun. Her presence filled him with light. As a creature who had dwelled much too long in darkness, at first, he had felt reluctant to bask in her warmth but soon, he reveled in it.

And he discovered that he was, in fact, happy.

*

So, when a late winter night, as Obi walked in dusted with snow, bringing her a flower he had picked in the courtyard, because she needed it for the poultice she was creating, it hit her how much his presence filled her with warmth. A small candle inside her chest.

Love.

It was not the all-encompassing feeling described in novels, nor was it the detached, reverent emotion you felt before the statue of a god. This was the gentle, peaceful kind of love that she would cherish.

Shirayuki stood up and kissed Obi.

The flower slipped from Obi’s loose fingers and fell to the ground softly.

They both found that they were engulfed in warmth.

[claudeng80]

Shadow in a Glass, Ch. 6 (Storge)

Previously

It leaves Obi unsettled, actually talking with Sano at last. He’s the same annoying brother he’s always been, arrogant and smug and flat-out infuriating, but at least he’s not actively trying to break Shirayuki’s heart. Zen’s ten times the man Sano is, and nobody gets over a love like that quickly. So part of him is relieved, but he can’t let that make him careless.

Really, it’s his own words that have him thrown. He’s come to terms with the fact that every single person from his life before Clarines is going to demand a justification for his choices, but every time he surprises himself with the answers. Torou made him realize he wasn’t afraid of staying beside the people he cares about. He owes Zen and Shirayuki an impossible debt for all the chances they’ve given him, choices he never expected. And now he’s told Sano he’s done with violence. Was he lying?

His ID chain jingles, caught inside his shirt. He probably doesn’t need to wear it out here, it’s not like the Toothed Coast people have ever seen a castle ID before or would expect any kind of identification, but it’s too important to put down. It’s the alias he’s inhabited for years now, a grant of too much power for him to use, or at least his usual ID is. It’s lying coiled in Garrack’s desk now, held hostage against the successful completion of their mission. This one was supposed to be an opportunity. An adventure. Something to bring him closer, even so temporarily, to Shirayuki.

Well, that’s what he told himself back in Wistal. In practice, he hasn't felt this left out in ages. He’s trying his best to prove to her how much he isn’t bothered by her pairing off with his brother, how much he’s not betrayed and upset, but it’s hard when she’s barely herself and he has no clue what to expect. She's never been so jumpy around him before, not even when they were strangers, when he was just an untrustworthy burden dropped on her. Even then she faced him, eyes clear and determined. This Shirayuki is more like the one he saw around Zen, back at the beginning, prone to blushes and wide eyes and running away.

He has to stop walking to process that thought. Her behavior really is just like it was with Zen. But she does it with him now. She’s being fluttery about him?

His soaring hope crashes right back down. No, of course not, she's fluttery about Sano, and Obi is a complication. It’s awkward, their being brothers, and she’s mistaken the two of them enough times in the last week and change. It has to be the case, and it makes things so much worse. Because he knows that Sano isn't truly interested in her and he never was. He admires her, likes her, but really he’s been just toying with her to irritate Obi.

He hates him, just a little. Trust his brother to ruin everything. And on top of that, he’s up to something shady, Obi’s more sure of it than ever. Why else would he be trying to distract Obi like this?

His feet take him past the cliffside, not ready to face Shirayuki again when he’s so fragmented. She might ask what’s bothering him, because she cares about him, and when he’s feeling like this he might answer. She doesn’t need that right now.

Far below, the tide must be out. There’s a tiny sliver of sandy beach cradled between the boulders, littered with sticks and scraps. It’s an odd spot to catch so much detritus, of so many colors- He pauses, looking closer. Some are suspiciously white and roundish. He knows that shape. Skulls.

There are too many to account for an accident, too close to the town for suicides. A gust flutters a scrap of fabric caught between the rocks, and he’s afraid he understands. This is how a society that outlaws weapons metes out punishment.

Sano had better know what he’s playing with, whatever his game is. Obi turns his face away from the ocean breeze, leaving the bones behind him. He needs to get back to the doctor’s office, to Shirayuki, and he's not going to lose to his brother this time, and he's not going to let him get away with whatever he's up to. Having Sano’s face has given him the advantage for once, and tonight he'll find out the truth.

After dinner in the room, Shirayuki hides her eyes behind her book as Obi strips off his pharmacy coat. With it go his well-washed clean hands and Shirayuki's ambitions for his future. The version of himself he puts on with the black shirt and headwrap is an Obi he’s much more familiar with.

It does deflate his ego a bit that she doesn't even peek while he's shirtless, just tightens her fingers on her book. She’s pink with embarrassment, but it doesn’t take much to make that happen. It’s what he should have expected. He was right all along, she doesn't feel that way about him, and it never could have been him she was interested in. If only he could warn her about Sano, but what truths has he ever given her to make her believe anything he says? He'll sound like a pain of a little brother, or worse yet, jealous. There’s nothing he can say that won’t be selfish, so he says nothing, just threads his knives back onto his belt in guilty silence then swings open the window and fades into the darkness outside.

There aren’t enough trees to make hiding easy, but he adapts, and by the time Sano and his cargo are lined up across from the mountain people, there’s nothing to distinguish Obi from any other rock outcropping. It’s nostalgic, being a creature of shadows again, almost restful to be unobserved for a while.

He thinks at first he may come away with nothing, because the prices and terms have already been discussed. Little is spoken while cylindrical bundles are unloaded from Sano’s cart and transferred to the strangers’ mules, half a dozen men taking slow and careful turns. Some people stand back at the edge of the light, unwilling to even touch the cargo.

And yet the cautious ones are the ones who finally give it all away. “You’re sure this is enough?” One man asks another.

“The walls of Wistal are thick,” a woman beside them adds, and Obi feels sand grate under his fingernails.

“It will be enough. You saw what he did to the cliffside.” He smiles, and every time Obi has seen a smile like that, it has prefaced a murder. “It'll take down the walls, and the king with them.”

Obi lies still on his rock after Sano and the conspirators have gone their separate ways. This is what the murmurs in the market, the half-sentences and the sudden silences have been hiding. A plot up in the hills, and now a heavily armed one. The rockfalls were a demonstration, a promise of what enough explosives can do, and Obi knows too well that Wistal has no defenses against this. As little as a year ago, the very concept of using explosives for war was nothing but a rumor from the east. So this is no backcountry murmurings, but a powerful plot on the king’s life, and now Obi knows. And of course Sano is the one responsible.

**

Shirayuki's first, unfair thought when Obi comes banging through the window is to wonder whether there are yet more of them.His voice is barely his own, pitched high and frantic, and the gold of his wide eyes is barely visible. Were it not for his grace as he settles to the floor and the scar gently accepting the shadow across his forehead, she’d fear she was cursed to be surrounded by mirrors of Obi. But it’s him, just more frightened than he’s ever let her see him.

She takes his transparency as a sign he’ll tell her what he saw out there, what prey he ran to earth that’s got him so spooked, but he’s concerned about something else entirely. “Please don't fall for Sano,” he begs, as though there were any risk of that, and even if there were, as though that were at all important right now. She can't even think about Sano when Obi's here, in front of her, more emotional than she's ever seen him.

“You don't need him, you've got me.” His voice is rough, insistent, and her heart tugs at the way he begs. This is important to him, even with the way he’s pulled away from her, she matters.

It’s insulting that he feels the need to put it that way, though. It’s not like anyone’s making her make a choice. It’s not like there’s any choice to make. “You don’t need to tell me that.” She tries to push the annoyance down, because that’s not what she wants him to see. Finally, he’s opening up to her, and she needs him to hear her. “I trust you, Obi, and there’s nothing I want from him.”

His eyes are fixed on her, pained and also a little confused. “Nothing? But why did you let him kiss you?” He flinches from his own question, intrusive as it is, but he won't take it back, just waits.

Shirayuki can feel her face heat, and she has to look away, just for a moment. “He surprised me, and-”

“Oh.” It’s not okay, she knows all too well, and starting now she’s going to take responsibility for her own kisses and stop letting men blindside her like that. Particularly when the man she wants to kiss would never do that to her. There’s an edge in his voice he hasn’t got under control and she can see him trying to forcing the emotions back, preparing to change the subject with a lighthearted quip if she knows him, but she isn’t ready to move on yet. He needs to know. She needs to tell him.

“He sounded like you.” Obi stops, forced facade of humor cracking to reveal the hurt and confusion beneath. She’s pretty sure that’s the truth on his face now. “He looked like you, took up the same space beside me. I didn’t know then what I wanted, but I know now.”

The silence stretches as she waits for it to sink in. At last Obi whispers, “Not him?”

Shirayuki shakes her head. “Not him.”

He takes a step closer, and the town bells break into a furious peal in the distance. Obi’s body tenses, a hunter coming to point, and he looks back toward the square. All she has is a step to interpret his response, her confession left hanging in midair unanswered.

“They found out,” Obi says. He looks down at her, torn, and she knows the moment is over. She wants him here, wants his words and the look on his face that’s telling her that she’s not unwelcome, but there’s somewhere he needs to be.

“Go,” she answers. “Do what you need to do.”

“I shouldn’t leave you,” he argues, but it’s weak.

“I’ll be fine.” She pushes her hand at him for emphasis, and he hooks her fingers with his own. He bends over her hand, and she barely has time to register the warm breath on her fingers before his lips are there in a soft press.

“When I get back-” he says, still looking up at her, and the heat in his eyes finishes the sentence for him.

“When you get back,” she echoes, and his fingers pull away from hers so slowly, they take the air in her lungs with them. She has to gasp for breath when he’s disappeared back out the window, the earth tilting under her feet. How those words flowed out of her so easily she’ll never know, how she could be so lucky as for him to look at her like that in return. She braces herself against the bedpost, and only then does she understand that it’s not an earthquake, it’s just her. Her stomach flips in spite of the steadiness under her feet, shaky with the aftermath of truth.

A deep breath, and she slaps her cheeks. Enough mooning. Time to get back to the office, find out what’s going on and what she can do to help.

Obi’s already in the office, in the dark, when she turns Elio’s key in the lock. All the shutters are drawn tight, the other doors barred. “Close it behind you,” he orders offhandedly, pressing a cloth against Sano’s cheek. “It’ll scar, but there’s no time for niceties.”

“I could-” Shirayuki starts, but Obi interrupts.

“No time! The mob is gathering!”

“It’s not the first time I’ve been run out of town,” Sano interjects with a dry laugh. “You’re overreacting, Nanaki.”

Obi doesn’t overreact. A chill of fear settles in Shirayuki’s fingers, and she stretches them as she listens.. “You brought weapons here and you didn’t even know what you were risking? Haven’t you seen the bones at the bottom of the cliff?”

That stops Sano, his face finally falling into a mirror of the fear on Obi’s. “You knew?”

Obi sighs impatiently. “No time for that, either. This is the time for you running away as fast as you can. Did Fulvio know?”

“He never knew about the explosives, just thought they were a special order of building materials.” Obi stares, and Shirayuki gasps. Sano looks to her for a second, seeing her for the first time since she entered the room, and there’s apology in his eyes. She doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for, but it’s probably not what it should be. Obi was right, all this time.

Running feet pass the shuttered window, and Obi’s hand flies out to cover Sano’s mouth. Steps slow, and a voice calls out, “He’s not here! Where haven’t we looked yet?”

“Sounds like time’s up,” Obi whispers, pulling Sano off the table and pushing him down to the floor. “And there’s no guarantee they won’t mistake me for you, so I’m right there with you.”

“Don’t worry too much about him, we’ll give them all to the ocean,” adds a second voice outside, and it’s Shirayuki’s turn to freeze. The whole caravan. If it had been just Sano, he could run, but there’s no way all of them can escape. Obi looks back at her, hopeless, and he’s waiting for her permission.

“You know I couldn’t keep up. Save him,” she whispers. “Take him back to the guard and get help.” And for once he gives her the courtesy of not objecting based on her safety, just nods. Sano salutes her without words, a grateful look and a respectful nod. Obi’s eyes speak, but she doesn’t know quite what, and they slip silently out the back door.

Alone in the now-silent pharmacy, Shirayuki gives herself a moment to cry. A couple of tears, for what they almost had and what might still happen today, and then she pulls herself up. Obi’s getting help. There’s an angry mob spreading outside, threatening innocents who’ve been kind to her. She can’t stand by and just let this happen.

[owlsshadows]

Seven Fiends of Obi 

Pairing: Obi/Yuki

Rating: G

Words: 2127

Written for ObiYuki Week 2018

Love, like a good court conspiracy or a masterfully crafted poison, has many flavors to it. It can be blatantly visible, just as it can be stealthy, sneaking itself into the day-to-day tasks, hiding in the shadows and blowing sweet tunes into the ears of Obi. He fights it fair and square, never denying any inch of his feelings, but never letting them take the steering wheel either.

It’s futile, really. But he tries.

*

Pragma finds him first, under the arcades of the castle on a moonlit night. He trails after his new task, this enigma of a young woman, peering up from behind half-lidded eyes as Shirayuki struggles with her thoughts, alcohol bending her reasoning and swaying her steps.

Obi watches as she blabbers on, about horses and not having a brother like Mitsuhide, only to come to a halt when she realizes he accompanied her all day, deep into the evening.

“You’ve been guarding me all day, even after I fell asleep after I got… drunk…” her voice gets tinier and tinier, finally dying on her lips as Obi steps closer.

She looks up at him, the expression in her eyes a mixture of confusion, admiration and gratitude. Obi greets her with a smile, small and soft, nothing more than what he deems appropriate, and her face flashes in a rosy tint under the lights of the castle.

“Thank you,” she says, so honest, so open, still with a hint of surprise in her voice, that makes Obi chuckle.

Her voice grows on him. Her determination amazes him.

When he helps her run away from Zen’s affections, it’s his loyalty to her that subdues the loyalty to his master.

When he makes the decision to take up Zen on his offer to duel him over whom to accompany Shirayuki to Tanbarun, Obi knows, he is in for no good – his duty to guard his Miss is way over a simple task he took on; it has become part of himself.

*

Philia visits him early on, following Pragma closely. It meets him when Shirayuki’s eyes meet his, with determination unparalleled.

“Next time I come to Tanbarun, please be my guard again,” she says, and he almost says her name, almost takes a step he deprived himself of the second he took on his role as her guard.

It takes him some time to ease into it, but Obi accepts the feeling with little reservations. He has always been careful to let people close, but never been against making friends, per se. Friends, with the right amount of caring to careful ratio, are safe.

He accepts it as he trails after the Miss, following her to the pharmacy where she treats her patients or waiting long hours in the library as she reads her books. He accepts the feeling as he takes upon the role of her horse riding teacher.

He takes power from it, fighting with fever and exhaustion, time and weather – even the first prince of Clarines at some point to a certain degree – to accompany Shirayuki on her quest to find the cure to the epidemic spreading in Lyrias.

But the feeling grows on him, as he watches his Miss confronting a haughty young lord in the royal library. It grows on him, as his chest puffs up with pride at her boldness, her profoundness, her prudence and purity. And the court’s resistance lowers, little by little, Shirayuki proving them her worth.

*

Agape comes in unnoticed. By the time Obi catches a glimpse of it, it has been there for him for ages. Obi sits by a long table in Lyrias, Shirayuki across and Ryuu by his side, waiting for the soup they ordered to warm up their cold fingers and frozen throats. Shirayuki leans over, casually brushing some snow out of his hair while Ryuu lays out serviettes and utensils before them on the table.

“Don’t you worry about it, Miss,” Obi laughs, pulling away.

“But I do,” Shirayuki insists, raising from her seat to reach him better, brushing through his hair and along his ear.

“We don’t want you to get a cold,” Ryuu says, nodding along.

“I don’t catch colds,” Obi contests.

“Still,” Shirayuki says. “There’s a big pile in your scarf. Ryuu, help me?”

“Hn,” the boy replies, turning in his seat and folding Obi’s scarf over his nape.

The half-melted snow lands with a watery slosh on the stone floor – echoed by a much smaller sound, inaudible to anyone by Obi, a tremble deep in his heart.

It’s not something he finds himself worthy of – he resists it, reluctantly, but the feeling has grown full long before he even noticed, and now it blooms wonderfully in his heart.

*

Ludus is the first offender Obi feels like fighting. It’s a cheeky bastard, crawling under his skin and attacking him where he’s the most vulnerable – at the core of his persona, the source of his cheerfulness.

He fights Ludus, because it wants to drag him into problems, it wants him to sneak Shirayuki out at night into a close by clearing to have a moonlit snowball fight, it wants him to ask her for a third dance, even if Zen has been sending him suspicious looks for a while, it wants him to tickle Shirayuki as she leans over the desk…

Sometimes, he lets his playful side run amok, enticing Shirayuki in an elaborate game of tag. Often he lets himself tease her, making remarks on the verge of flirting, but never quite openly seducing her.

But there are times when he takes a step too far – when he catches her and she trips into his arms, eyes glued on him and cheeks flushed from running, a gleeful smile spreading on her lips, when teasing is no longer all fun and games, and the air is filled with something hot and suffocating, and he has to tear himself away, he has to, or he knows he will fall.

It doesn’t stop him from asking for a dance or joking at her expanse. Obi has always lived a dangerous life, and he doesn’t even know how to not go too close to the fire. But in those moments he steps just too close, the burn is a painful tinge against his heart, and his fingers curl around thin air.

*

Eros is the one awakening from the ashes left behind by the burns of Ludus, cruel and powerful. Eros is like wildfire, devouring everything in its path, but oh, its flames lick at Obi without pain, making his skin itch and prickle without the resolve of agony to awaken him from his desire.

Obi’s resistance wears thin like spider’s thread, and he bends – he allows himself small slip ups, nonchalant laughs, feather light touches. He plays with fire still, this fire is sweet, feeding the feelings growing all over his body, devouring him whole.

Once, his touch lingers long.

The following evening finds him in the company of a woman, young and pretty, refreshing to talk to, but not Shirayuki, so painfully not Shirayuki…

It takes a look from Kiki for his final resistance to tear – he has never been in denial, nor has he been hiding his feelings, but admitting them to the swordswoman makes a difference.

“My feelings lie with the young Miss,” he says, a smile creeping around the corner of his lips. It feels liberating – much as it has felt when he admitted them to Zen back on the ship – but this time, his feelings have a different shape, taste and depth.

This time there’s no turning back.

Twice, his touch lingers too long as the night closes on them and he accompanies her until the door of her room; his thumb brushing against the inside of her wrist wistfully, wishing that thoughts could be transferred through touch instead of speech.

“Something bothers you,” Shirayuki says, eyes shining in the lights softly.

“Does it?” he asks back, lifting her hand, teasing his fingers around it, holding it up to his lips. “I wonder,” he whispers, kissing her palm instead of the back of her hand as a good knight would do – kissing long and deep, breathing her smell in and making sure to record it in his memory.

“You can’t deceive me, Obi,” Shirayuki whispers back in a ragged voice, raising her free hand up to his nape and sinking her fingers in between his hair.

“Can’t I?” he asks back.

“No.” The hand grabs his neck with surprising strength and resoluteness, yanking his head downwards. “No, you can’t,” Shirayuki repeats, lips barely an inch away, eyes piercing through Obi down to his soul and spine.

“Miss,” he tries to pull away, and it hurts more than anything ever before. No missed dance or stolen touch would give him so much grief as to step away now, that her lips are already so close, but – but Shirayuki must be oblivious to his feelings, and he would never, ever overstep his boundaries.

Except, she does it for him, raising on her tiptoe and pressing her lips against his.

“I say something bothers you.”

“Miss!” Obi says, feet stepping away but hands pulling her closer.

“When will you finally call me by my name?” she huffs, blowing a feather light kiss against his chin.

“How much did you drink, Miss?”

Shirayuki raises a brow, unimpressed.

“I heard you speaking with Kiki,” she replies, fisting his scarf to drag him as she opens her door behind her.

“But–!

“What bothers you, Obi?” she asks, pulling him into her room.

“This must be a dream,” he replies. “And I must be the drunk one.”

Shirayuki graces him with a laugh so brilliant it sends his heart flying, only to reach up the next moment and pinch is cheek painfully hard.

“Rude,” Shirayuki says. “Is it so hard to imagine that your feelings would be returned?”

*

Storge comes into Obi’s life as a most welcome stranger. The love he didn’t have the luxury to have as a child engulfs him the moment he sets his eyes on his daughter, soft black hair covering her tiny skull, big green eyes shining with glee the second before she bites down on his finger.

“Ouch!” he winces, smiling.

“Teething, are we?” Yuzuri squirms closer to sneak a peek at the baby.

“Fascinated, aren’t you?” Obi teases.

“Well, I can’t help but imagine,” Yuzuri blushes, eyes wondering down to her obscenely large belly.

“Oh, you will know soon enough,” Shirayuki joins the conversation as she and Ryuu enter the room, placing fresh and warm food on the table.

“You won’t get to sleep much,” Obi cackles.

Suzu makes a small noise, something between a whine and a squeal, high pitched and panicked.

Laughter picks up across the table.

The tiny demon in Obi’s arms decides to join in with a wail of her own.

*

Philautia is the only one lagging behind. It may be a little shy – it may be that Obi’s resistance is much higher against self-love, compared to loving everyone else.

He loves Shirayuki with his whole self.

He loves their daughter more than anything.

He adores Ryuu as a brother, a son, a nephew and a comrade in crime.

He likes Suzu and Yuzuri, and Zen and Kiki and even Mitsuhide on his better days.

He finds that Captain Makiri can be a quite agreeable man, too.

He feels so undeserving of all the happiness he has. It’s not fitting his type. His type dies young, covered in cold blood under a tree deep in the forest, for no one to see and no one to care.

His type… what was his type again?

“You deserve it, you know,” Shirayuki says one night, as if she was reading his thoughts, as he leans over their sleeping daughter tucking her in. “You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

“I’m not–” Obi starts, tearing away from the crib to face her.

“Yes?” Shirayuki asks, eyes expectant.

The beauty takes his words away.

“Good,” Shirayuki bops his head softly. “I’ve got enough of your self-deprication. You’re a knight of Clarines. Second-in-command of Fort Lyrias. Husband to the brightest pharmacist only after Ryuu,” she smiles at this, hugging him with tease in her voice. “Soon father of two.”

“Two…?”

“Two.”

Philautia has no roots in Obi. If possible, he would have liked its seeds gone too – yet, love is a crafty thing, squirming itself back to his heart the moment he looks away. Pride fills him, puffing out his chest as he tugs his wife closer to him.

“Two!” he smiles into her hair.

“Two,” Shirayuki confirms.

Their daughter, soon to be a big sister, turns in her sleep.

[danceswithseatbelts]

Pragma

Prompt: Pragma (practical love, founded on reason or duty and one’s longer-term interests) I’m tackling the prompts by challenging myself ~ keeping it to 5 sentences ^^

Obi x Shirayuki Week

AnS Fandom

><><>< 

"Let me lead," Obi spoke softly but firmly to Shirayuki, "I'm far more expendable than yourself."

"Not this again," Shirayuki sighed and mock-glared at Obi, "we're only a stone's throw from the castle."

"I love you, but I don't love your cavalier attitude towards your safety."

Shirayuki responded with a giggle. "Huh, I knew you loved me."

[snowwhite-andtheknight]

Obiyukiweek Round Up, Day 4: Free Day/Ludus

Art/Edits

Free Day by @glitterberry

Ludus by @youseimanami

Fanfic

Shadow in a Glass, Chapter 4 by @claudeng80

Guarding Miss Shirayuki, Chapter 3 by @danceswithseatbelts NSFW

Free by @danceswithseatbelts

Catch by @puffdragongirl

SoulM8, Chapter 4 by @ruleofexception

Ludus by @thacatwhogrins

Wild Song by @superhappybubbleslove

[sabraeal]

All Pain Will Turn to Medicine, Part 4

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Obiyuki Week, Day 2: Philia a dispassionate, virtuous love; an affectionate regard between equals; friendship

To no one’s surprise, Obi is late.

“You best go outside and wait for him,” Oma says as she bustles through the kitchen, a stack of plates on each arm. “You’re starting to wear a trough in here.”

Shirayuki rolls her ankles, peering down at the worn planks under her boots. Nothing worse than a few scuffs and some wear -- and that could be from anyone. It wasn’t like she picked up this kind of worrying on her own.

“I’m sure Shou’s just kept him late,” Oma continues with hardly any conviction. “You know how he’s been lately, keeping that boy to all hours. Wouldn’t surprise me if he plum forgot that he’d given him the afternoon off.”

Her eyes are the ones rolling now, though Oma can’t see them, not the way she’s bent over the sink, suds up to her elbows. It’s not as if Oma can’t know about his reputation; her gnarled fingers are hooked firmly in the quarter’s grapevine, and there isn’t a body that doesn’t know about the baker’s apprentice and his propensity for making time. 

A little shiver tickles her neck, and her gaze jolts up, meeting Oma’s in the window’s reflection. The look is wary, worried, as if she think Shirayuki might --

--Care. Or something silly like that.

“I’m going to wait for him outside,” Shirayuki announces, to no one in particular, though they’re the only two in the kitchen. “The pub’s a little loud this afternoon.”

Oma glances towards the door, towards the only three patrons that have come for a drink and a nosh this early, toward Opa making quiet conversation --

Shirayuki sidles to the door, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll see you at dinner!”

Her cheeks feel raw, red, and Shirayuki would blame them on the wind, should one ever oblige to show itself. The weather is so inconvenient lately.

It’s not that she cares -- it’s one of the world’s constants: the sky is blue, water is wet, and Obi kisses girls like breathing.

What -- what rankles is that everyone expects that she should care, that she does, just because he’s always around. Because the apothecary faces the bakery, and he spends most nights with her and her grandparents, eating dinner or helping with the bar or anything else a boy might do with doting grandparents. Why everyone seems to think that means something is beyond her.

He’d said last night he wasn’t the marrying kind, and -- and there’s a part of her that hums with that, that feels the same. Maybe not the way he does, like a tomcat forever prowling for an unattended female, but -- but there’s so much to do that isn’t that. She’s too busy to become a -- a Suki, married at barely eighteen and a baby on the way, hoping for a boy to please her husband.

A knot sits between her shoulders, aching as she rounds them, flexes them to get rid of it, to get rid of that sensation of -- of expectation. There’s other things to worry about than the idle speculation of Oma and the other matrons, other puzzles to solve --

Like: how does Obi get in her window? She stares at the street, just visible through the open gate. There’s nothing for him to clamber up out there, and unlike the other buildings on the street, the pub stands alone at its end, no roofs close enough to take a jump from.

I wonder, he said all smugly, like it’s some secret she could never divine.

And that’s -- fine. Shirayuki doesn’t need divination to figure out his puzzle. She has her wits, and that’s better than any gut feelings, no matter what anyone says.

Oh, no. She halts mid-step, grimace on her lips. She’s starting to sound like Herr Anda.

She takes a few small, steeling breaths, enough to calm herself, to let her eyes and mind wander. If she was Obi...

There’s an oak tree, right in her back yard. Not a bad place to start.

Shirayuki stares at the oak’s canopy, tracing a dubious line to the tavern. Even granting Obi almost inhuman agility – easily done, knowing some of the feats he’s done on a triple-dog dare from other boys in the quarter – the leap from branch to ledge is chancy, at best. He’d be hard pressed to make it in the best of circumstances, never mind in the night, with nothing and no-one to catch him.

Still, it’s the best guess she has. She lays her hand against the rough bark, thinks about the thick calluses layered on his hands, and makes her decision.

She’s not as tall as him, not anywhere near, and so she steps back – ten paces should do it – and takes off at a run.

Even with momentum behind her, her leap isn’t enough; the trunk skitters under her fingers, and her back hits the ground, hard, breath hiccuping from her chest.

It burns to breathe, to try to gasp in enough air to get herself upright, to get herself to feel anything but the bruise on her back or the painful pink that paints her palms and fingers. Still, she drags her eyes up, studying branches and bark, as if just looking could somehow unlock its secrets.

The first branch isn’t so high; with enough momentum, enough spring, there’s no reason she shouldn’t be able to grab it.

If Obi can do this, she can too. It just might…take some doing.

Her hands throb, red and raw, as she hauls herself up onto the lowest branch, breath tearing raggedly out of her lungs. Victory should be sweet, should be invigorating, but all Shirayuki can do is drop onto the bark, hugging every limb tight around it. How Obi makes this looks as easy as breathing is a mystery; it’s not like he’s that much stronger than her, and six inches isn’t so much taller.

She casts a long look up at the canopy, trying to plan her next move, but – her head swims just thinking about it, just thinking about dragging herself up higher, making the ground so much further away –

Her cheek presses tightly against the wood. This is fine. She just needs…a moment.

Good thing Obi is running late. She’ll have to thank one of Herr Schuster’s daughters later; he’s stepping out with one of them, the matrons say, though there’s some confusion as to which. Knowing him, it’s probably all three.

Well, she doesn’t need him anyway. She presses herself up, trying to pick her next branch. She can climb this tree all by her—

“Shirayuki?”

She startles, grip loosening for the smallest moment –

But it’s enough. Her stomach heaves as her world spins, body dropping around the branch like a swing pushed too high.

Upside-down, Obi’s grin is even more insufferable than usual.

“What are you doing?” he asks, like somehow she is the ridiculous one.

“I wanted to see how you get in,” she explains, even, ignoring the way her hands burn against the bark, the way her arms feel like they’ll pull straight from their sockets if she hangs here long enough. “Since you won’t just tell me.”

“Well…” He leans close, grin looming wide and white in her vision, and -- his finger taps the tip of her nose. “Not like that.”

His touch makes it itch, but she doesn’t dare lift a hand, not with the way her elbows already wobble. Instead she’s left to crinkle and contort her face, trying to just – ease it.

Obi laughs, hovering close. “Have a problem there?”

“I’m fine,” she says before he can make it worse, before he gets ideas to pinch cheeks or pull hair. Nothing is helping. “Didn’t you have some plan today?”

His mouth cocks up at the corner, almost like he’s – impressed. Like he finds her desperate attempt to distract him something close to clever.

“Well,” he drawls, walking around her in a slow circle, “first, it looks like I’m rescuing you from a tree.”

“I don’t need to be –“

“And second, you gave me a wonderful idea last night.”

She stares at him blankly, running through every facet of their conversation in the dark, trying to pick out what she could have said. All she remembers is the itch in her belly and the heat of the night, just standing there numbly as he says, we both known I’m not the marrying kind --

He lets out a huff, put-out. “I should have just taken credit for it. You would have never known.”

Her eyes narrow. “Are you going to get a girl pregnant?”

“No!” he yelps, stumbling back. “I mean that we should convince Shou to marry Seyha!”

Somehow, that’s an even worse idea than hers. “She meant that as a joke, not a – a proposal!”

“No reason it can’t be both,” he says, like it’s that easy, like people are that easy. “A joke one day and a proposal the next.”

If her shoulders had mouths, they would be screaming. Her arms tremble alarmingly, but she just -- hugs closer to the branch, hoping it will help. “How exactly do you expect that to happen?”

“Just a little interference.” His lips curl into the worst of his smirks; the sort that presages a plan he thinks is foolproof, and almost always ends up with her being the fool. “A few kind words here, a gift or two there…and then they’re married by harvest.”

“I don’t think—” her biceps quiver as she tries to adjust her grip, hands slicking with sweat -- “I don’t really think that’s how something like this works.”

“The right words can get you anywhere,” he purrs. “And if Shou has a wife at home, then he won’t need to work so often. Which means he won’t need me to work so often, doing his one more last things, which means I have more free time to…”

His eyes catch on her, and whatever words he means to say get caught up in his teeth as his mouth clicks shut. She lifts her eyebrows, waiting.

“…To do things,” he finishes, like a lame horse over a race line. “Like...spend time with you.”

She gives him a flat look. “You mean kiss girls?”

“What I do with the time is not the point here,” he tells her. “The point is that I’ll have it to spend.”

There’s something not quite right with his arithmetic, she thinks. “But if he’s in the bakery less, won’t you have to work more?”

His mouth rumples into displeasure, and he pulls up out of his slouch to loom with something approaching authority. He manages to get close to seniority, at least. “Between the two of us, I think I’m the one who know how things like this work out. After all, I’m the adult here.”

Her teeth close around the word, barely. Her arms shake with the effort.

Obi’s expression shifts to something between amusement and concern. “You do know how to get down from there, don’t you, pipsqueak?”

“No,” she says, because lying would take too much effort. “But I’m working it out.”

He hums, unconvinced. “Anyway, it’s all going to be simple. Half of attraction is knowing that someone else likes you. We tell him she likes him, we tell her he like her, we arrange a few thoughtful gifts – it will practically handle itself.”

“That,” she says, straining, “sounds like a terrible plan.”

“As I said, I am the one with experience --”

At last, her grip gives out.

Her arms give one last great shake, and then she’s falling, breath rushing from her lungs with no time to scream –

Not when Obi is so quick to grab her, pulling her tight against his chest. He stares down at her, eyes wide. “So? Are you in?”

The way her heart pounds is just -- uncomfortable. She wriggles out of his arms, dizzy with it even when she’s got he feet under her.

“Y-yes,” she manages, more breathless than she likes. “But only because I know you’ll find some way to make this worse if I don’t.”

He grins, triumphant. “I’ll take it!”

Timing, Obi insists, is everything.

Shirayuki arrives at the bakery early the next morning; the ovens are hot before dawn, and it’s usually Shou who tends them, but today it is Obi, giving her a wave at the apothecary as he turns over their sign from closed to open. That’s the signal, she knows, but Herr Anda is still puttering around the storeroom, calling out the names of reagents needing to be replaced – not in any sort of true order, but just as he’s using them, grousing that they’ve even been allowed to get so low or old.

“You’re leaving?” he asks when he steps out, noticing how she lingers by the window. “You only just got here.”

“The bakery just opened,” she explains, heat flooding her cheeks. “I – haven’t eaten? Today. I thought I might grab something fresh out of the ovens.”

Anda narrows his eyes, but nods. “Fine, then. Bring me one too, while you’re there. And don’t let that boy jaw on so long it gets cold.”

“Of course!” she squeaks scurrying out the door. “It’ll be nice and hot!”

Of course, this leaves enough time for customers to have entered the store – or whatever Frau Kino’s granddaughter is pretending to be, wrapping one long, golden curl around her finger as Obi leans over the case, describing pastry filling in what she is sure is an indecent way. She settles into line as if she’s just any customer, but she can’t help but think that he asked her to come, and now she had to wait for him to finish with his flirting –

“Ah, half-pint!” Obi’s gaze lands on her smile pulling wide. “You’ll have to excuse me, Frauline Kino, you’ve made your decision, haven’t you?”

“I --?” Her eyelashes flutter in confusion, gaze darting over her shoulder before resting back on him. “I suppose? The, uh, those pastries --?”

“Lobster tails,” Obi confirms with a friendly nod. “Good choice. Herr Beck just got the recipe from Clarines, and they’re delicious.”

“Oh,” she murmurs, casting a long look back at Shirayuki. “That’s…good. Thank you.”

The Kino girl stumbles out of the shop, eyes still darting between them, and Shirayuki –

She doesn’t know what to make of that. Not at all. Why she thinks Obi would be swayed by her presence –

“Get over here,” Obi hisses, waving her over with a frantic hand. “You’re late!”

“I wasn’t sure if you found another partner to do this with,” she tells him, a little lofty. “You seemed like you were having a good time.”

He stares down at her incredulous. “Don’t be ridiculous. Who else would I want to be with than you?”

Whatever is happening in her chest, it – it must have to do with the ovens. Maybe the vents aren’t fully open, and there’s – there’s smoke in the shop –

“You’re the only one that knows the plan,” he clarifies. “And you’re more convincing. You know, since you can’t lie.”

Her mouth pulls flat. “I don’t like lying.”

“Because you can’t do it.”

“I could!” she insists. “I just don’t! And I don’t want to lie about any of this either --”

“It’s not lying,” Obi drawls, leaning over the counter. “Seyha did say she’d marry him. We’re just…removing context. It’s practically like telling the truth.”

“That’s not like telling the truth at all --”

A pert peal rings out over the shop, and Shirayuki turns her head just in time for Shou to squeeze his shoulders through, a sack of flour on each arm. She may have gotten older, maybe even a bit taller, but Shou is still massive beside her. His head swivels on his neck, long and slow, like how some of the shaggy bulls do in the fields outside the city, chucking his chin in a nod when he catches sight of her. This time, he even grunts.

A good sign. For Herr Beck, that might as well be singing a jaunty tune.

He crosses to the larder, fumbling with the key kept on his waist, and Obi seizes her wrist, giving it a tight squeeze.

“Just follow my lead,” he hisses. Louder, he says, “Glad to see you back, Master!”

“Said you shouldn’t call me that,” Shou grumbles, edging out of the larder. “Said it was good enough to call me by name.”

“I thought we were supposed to get that delivered this afternoon,” Obi says, jerking his head back toward the pantry.

“Was out over that way.” Shou shrugs; it’s like watching mountains rise and fall. “Thought I’d lighten the load.”

Obi’s mouth twitches. “Shirayuki and I were just talking about how the spice merchant’s come through. You remember her – Seyha?”

Shou grunts. Shirayuki’s not sure if it’s an affirmative or not – he’s always sent Obi out to deal with the shopping. Anything with people tends to make Shou itch.

“Shirayuki was just telling me about how she talked to her yesterday!” His gaze shifts pointedly to her. “Weren’t you?”

“Yes!” she squeaks, wringing her hands as Shou passes. “I uh – went to get some saffron, to replace both our stocks.”

“Weren’t necessary,” he rumbles, displeased. “That was a gift. You needed it more.”

“I – I know!” she assures him. “I just wanted to repay you for your kindness, and I was already going to fill our own stocks.”

He grunts, but doesn’t protest.

“And?” Obi prompts, eyebrows waggling.

“And? OH. And, um…” She grasps for the words. “While I was there, Seyha asked to try one of the rolls you gave me!”

“Did she like them?” Obi prompts, when Shou gives no sign of interest. “Everyone knows we make the best bread in the city.”

“She did!” Shirayuki casts a nervous glance over at Shou. “She said she’d – um – marry the man who made them.”

Obi whistles. “Well, well. That’s a compliment, isn’t it, Master? Pretty woman like that.”

“She offered goats as well,” Shirayuki says, when Shou continues to fuss with the ovens. “I’ve heard their coats are, um, thick and, uh, lustrous.”

The baker is unmoved.

“You don’t have anything to say to that?” Obi sighs, pained. “It’s a nice compliment.”

Shou gives it some thought. “Her spices are fine. And it’s good, when people take care of their animals. Goats make good cheese, though the milk’s too sour.”

“It’s not bad for cooking,” Obi tries, half-desperate.

He nods. “Not bad for cooking, if you want some flavor.”

“You’ve seen her though, haven’t you?” Obi presses. “I wasn’t kidding, she’s pretty. I’m sure she would stand out.”

Shou’s silent a long while. “Seen her. Interesting tattoos. They’re nice.”

Obi shoots her a look of triumph, and she has to bite her lip to keep from giggling. Shou stands, nodding his head towards the kitchen. “Nice talk. Better get to work.”

“How romantic,” Shirayuki teases after he leaves the room. “She has fine spices, and goats make good cheese.”

Obi sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I’ll take it.”

“I don’t understand why Obi can’t do this,” Pavo whines, plodding along at her side. Already he’s started to break out into a sweat, eyes darting around the marketplace. “It’s his idea! And Seyha likes him better.”

“Seyha likes you just fine,” she assures him, though secretly she wonders the same. He’d waved them off with a grin, saying that they couldn’t always be seen together, that it would be suspicious and someone would catch on. A weak excuse, but she had even less reason to object, especially when Pavo had been so eager to please. Until they got here.

“Shirayuki-ya!” Seyha lifts a hand from under her stall’s awning, teeth flashing white in the shade. Her eyes catch on Pavo as they come closer, running from his brushed and burnished hair, down the broad shoulders to narrow hips. It’s – impersonal, assessing; the same kind of look she gives the space between them and their separated hands. “And young Herr Kruger. I do hope whatever is in that basket is for me.”

“It is!” Shirayuki shoves it toward her, pulling back the linen so she can see the fresh baked bread beneath. “I told the baker that you enjoyed his bread, and he gave me this for you.”

It’s not a lie, not precisely; Obi is a baker too, and it was his idea to give the fresh loaves to sweeten the deal. Still, she’s glad Seyha is too busy inhaling the aroma of her new bounty to see the way she shuffles and shifts.

“I hope you told him about my offer,” she says, pulling a roll from the basket. “If he keeps wooing me like this, I might throw in a discount on spice, too.”

“For your husband?” Pavo cocks his head. “Wouldn’t you give them to him for free?”

“Nothing is free, Herr Kruger,” she tells him, serious. “And this would be my business, not my husband’s. Take notes, Shirayuki-ya,” she adds with a waggle of her eyebrows, “the first step to losing your freedom is to let a man take control of what’s yours.”

“Um…” There’s no way to explain that she – she’s never thought of it, that she’s sure she’d be happy in the apothecary, just her and Herr Anda and the smell of dried herbs for forever, with Obi just across the way. That she has no plans to marry, doesn’t see the need to when all it seems to bring is babies and complications.

Seyha’s mouth curls, sly. “Though I doubt you’ll have to worry about that much.”

Something about the way she says it makes Shirayuki flush, makes her skin feel a size too small. “What--?”

“But that can’t be the only reason you came to see me, Shirayuki-ya,” Seyha pries, leaning forward, eyelashes fluttering. “Am I to assume you came for the pleasure of my company as well? Or do you need something else for the shop? I can’t see how. Anda’s nearly bought me out entirely.”

“No!” she blurts out, before she can stop herself. “I mean, yes. But…?”

Seyha leans closer, all-too intrigued.

“I was just…wondering…” She shuffles, anxious. “In, uh…where you come from? How would you…you know…um…”

“My, this is getting intriguing,” Seyha hums, her strange eyes alight. They dart to where Pavo stands, expectant. “Well, Herr Kruger? I’m sure you can see we have business.”

“Oh!” Shirayuki swings her gaze between them. “No! It’s not – Pavo can stay!”

“He most certainly cannot.” Seyha pours coin into his hand. “Here, boy, it’s nearly midday. Why don’t you run along and fetch us some of your mother’s meat pies? I have a feeling we’re about to work up quite an appetite.”

“I don’t – that’s not –“

“I don’t mind,” Pavo assures her. “It’d be my pleasure, Frau Seyha.”

“Good.” Seyha turns hungry eyes to her. “I always find confessions leave the stomach rumbling. After all, that is where we keep our secrets.”

“It’s not – there’s not secrets,” she protests. “It was only – a cultural question!”

“Mm, well let’s have it out.” Seyha leans forward. “Come on now, I’m very interested in this cultural question.”

“I only was wondering…” Damn Obi, putting her in this spot. “What you would do – I-I mean, what a girl from your country would do, if…if she wanted to, um, give something to a…a person --”

“Person?” Seyha purrs, too curious.

“A boy,” she grits out.

Seyha claps her hands together, eyes rolled heavenward. “The day has finally come! Shirayuki-ya likes a boy.”

Shirayuki sputters, waving her hands. “No, no, that’s not – I haven’t --”

“Can it be,” she wonders aloud, too pleased, “that Shirayuki-ya has finally turned her eye to catching my favorite young man?”

“What?” Shirayuki stares. “That’s not –“

“Come, darling,” Seyha says, beckoning her behind the stall. “I will show you how to catch a man.”

“Wow,” Obi’s fingers run along the fringe of the scarf, gold knotted on a deep, patterned crimson. “Now this is something. Real nice.”

His shoulder brushes hers and he’s just – far too close. Especially when he turns that grin on her, teeth so white against his skin. “How’d you even get this?”

She does not say, Seyha thought it was for you, nor does she say, she had me pick it out especially.

His mouth takes a concerned bent. “You didn’t pay for it, did you? I know how much she charges for things like this. That’s too much --”

“No!” She waves her hands, pulling back. “She gave it to me. As a, um, gift.”

She doesn’t tell him how she tried to pick out something less bright, something subdued like Shou himself, a nice charcoal gray or deep tan, but Seyha had tossed them out of her hands, had told her, it must be something personal, something that reminds him of how good you would be together. And then she had pulled out the red and gold.

Obi stares down at it, hungry. “Nice gift.”

“Maybe we should replace yours soon,” she says, watching the way his fingers trace along the whorls. “It’s getting a little tatty around the edges.”

“It’s fine,” he says gruffly, too quick. “I like it. It’s worn in just the way I like it.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.” His eyes flick up to hers. “You don’t have work tomorrow, right? Anda gave you the day off?”

“Yes.” She tilts her head, curious. “Though I’m not sure why this will take so long. You don’t need more than a few hours to bake --”

“Because this can’t just be a boule and we call it a day,” he scoffs. “It has to be a masterpiece. Something that’ll impress.”

“And that will take all night?” she asks, skeptical.

He nods, serious. “We’ll be lucky to be done in the morning.”

She wants to tell him this sounds dramatic, and perhaps not entirely worth it for something that won’t work anyway, but –

He bends down, bringing the fabric to his nose. “Wow, it even smells nice.”

You have to imbue it with your scent, Seyha tells her, as if it is some great secret. You don’t have one? Oh, Shirayuki-ya, I will lend you some of mine.

“Anyway,” she yelps, shoving it into his hands. “You should get going, give this to --”

“Shirayuki?” The familiar rattle of Herr Anda’s cane taps above them. “Is that Obi down there with you?”

She wants to say no, wants, for once, to tell this lie, but –

But Anda sees him as he descends the last step, eyes widening in recognition, his hand coming up to wave him over –

And then he catches the scarf between their hands. His eyes narrow, mouth pulling thin.

“Shirayuki --”

“Obi was just leaving!” she shrills, putting a hand to his back and shoving. It’s a testament to how much he doesn’t expect it that he even moves, let alone stumbles to the door.

“Uh, right!” He gives Herr Anda his best grin. “Break’s over, you know! Gotta get back to work.”

Shirayuki whirls back to her master, smile brightly pasted across her face. “Did you need something?”

His gaze falls to her, and he scowls. “Just where did you get something like that from?” She opens her mouth, trying to make an excuse, but he waves his hand. “No, never mind. I know whose meddling this is.”

“It was just --”

“You’re very young, Shirayuki,” he tells her, cane tapping emphatically on the floor. “Too young to be making any choices about – about anything permanent.”

“I wasn’t --” She doesn’t know how to put the words together. “There was nothing.”

Anda’s scowl only deepens. “I’ll talk to that woman. I know things are different in the east, but she shouldn’t be encouraging this sort of behavior.”

“There was no – behavior,” she protests, but Anda’s already out the door, hobbling towards the market.

Shirayuki covers her face and groan. At least Obi will never have to know.

The bakery looks different at night, all the ovens cold and only the lamp in the kitchen lit.

“Come on,” Obi teases, beckoning her into the larder, setting the lantern down on a shelf. “You’re not afraid, are you?”

“N-no,” she steps over the threshold, edging into the lamplight. “It’s just different, is all. It’s like – walking your house in the dark. You just don’t realize how little you knew about it.”

He hums, smug. “If you’re so scared, I could hold your hand.”

She scowls, stepping fully into the room. “I’m –“

The door slams shut behind her.

“—fine?”

“No,” Obi says slowly, tugging at the door. “We’re not. This door doesn’t unlock from this side.”

“I’ve told you,” Obi sighs, leaning his head against a bag of flour. “I don’t know how it works. But he’d had people break in before and the locksmith owed him one and now we’re here. With a door the locks on its own from the other side.”

“Couldn’t you maybe…” she hates to suggest he use any of his skills from…before, not the way it always makes him distant, the way he starts watching the hills for days after. “Uh, well, you know…”

“How?” He gestures to the knob, smooth entirely on this side. “Some people just go over the top.”

“Well, there’s…there’s the window!” She shuffles over to a shelf, trying to catch a glimpse of its shape over the shelving.

“Too small for me,” Obi tells her, eyes closing. “And you’d have to climb, so --”

“I can – I’m very good at climbing!” she insists. “I just --”

She puts one foot on the shelving and yelps as it wobbles beneath her.

“Also, those are made to carry flour, not clumsy girl,” Obi adds, one eye slitting open to stare at her. She scowls at him.

“At least I’m doing something.”

“I am doing something,” he tells her, eye shutting. “I’m waiting until morning. Shou will open the door when he comes to light the ovens.”

“That’s hours from now,” she insists. What will her grandparents think when they don’t find her in bed? “Do you really want to wait that long?”

There’s a long pause before Obi says, “No.”

She turns, opening her mouth to ask why he’s just sitting there, when she – she sees it. The way his eyes are screwed shut, the way his fists are clenched in his trousers, how his chest struggles beneath the dark fabric of his shirt.

“Obi…”

“It’s fine.” Now that she’s listening, she hears the quaver in his voice. “We just can…sleep through it. Not the first time I’ve been stuck in a tight spot, you know.”

She doesn’t, but she doesn’t say anything, just sinks down next to him. She’s not sure what to – to do for this, the same way she doesn’t know what to do for Anda when he wakes up in the night, sweating and screaming and hardly knowing where he is, or who she is. He’s only ever taught her how to treat the body, not the heart.

No, she’s only had one teacher for that. And she’s never taken those lessons particularly well.

Touch, Oma tells her as she lays with fever, unable to sleep, touch is the greatest healer of all.

Her hand trembles as she lifts it, jerking back as the bristle of his hair tickles her palms. She clenches her hand, then forces it open, sinking fingers in to lay along his scalp. Under her hand, he startles, eyes slitting open so that only a shimmer of gold shows in the dark.

She think he might say something, might tease her, but instead his eyes close again, and he leans just slightly into her touch.

Shirayuki scooches closer, awkward in her skirts, but his arm lifts, makes room for her beside him. She lifts her other hand, tracing along the wing of his cheekbones, and his breath huffs into her hand, so much more even.

“Obi…” she sighs.

“That’s nice,” he says, “I’ve missed that.”

“Missed what?”

He sighs, face pressing into her palm. “The way you say my name.”

“I say your name all the time!” she protests, pinching his cheeks. “What is there to miss?”

“It’s the way you say it,” he tells her, smile tugging at his lips. “You don’t say it the way you used to. Ohhbi.”

“You complained!” she laughs. “You made me practice!”

“Well, I miss it.” His mouth twitches under her hands. “It makes me…nostalgic.”

“For when you could barely walk by yourself?”

“No.” He hesitates, before he lets his mouth part in a grin. “For when you had to take care of me and give me all your attention --”

She drops her hands with a sigh, playfully shoving at him. “You get plenty of attention.”

“It only counts if it’s from you --”

“Is that what this is supposed to be? A ploy to get my attention?” she teases.

“No.” He sobers, just a little. “I just wanted…”

She stills, watching the way he wrangles with his words.

“Shou does – a lot. For…everyone.” He won’t look at her. “I thought it was time someone could look out from him.”

She settles back, pressing into his side. “So you decided he needed a wife?”

“It would certainly help with his mood,” Obi laughs, tipping back his head. “If ever there was a man who needed to relax…”

Shirayuki wrinkles her nose. “Is it really that good? Herr Anda said --”

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear what Herr Anda thinks --”

“He says it hurts, for the woman,” she says, haltingly. Obi’s gaze drops to her, fixed. “Fine enough for the man, but most women only suffer it for children --”

He lets out a laugh. “Now that is some lie.”

“It is?”

His arm tenses around her. “I mean. It’s just that –“ He coughs. “It can, if you’re not being careful. But you should always be with someone who would – who –“

He clears his throat, edging just slightly away. “You’re trying to distract me, aren’t you?”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“It did,” he admits, pulling her closer. “But...Shirayuki…”

Something terrible happens to her skin, making it tingle, making it press tight around her. “Yes?”

“Don’t ever…” He licks his lips. “Don’t do anything with anyone who wouldn’t treat you right.”

She can’t bring herself to look at him when she says, “I won’t.”

Shirayuki wakes to voices, to light pouring in – not from the window, but the open door, and –

“It isn’t anything…like that,” Obi says, so soft.

Shou grunts. “Good. She’s young. Doesn’t deserve the way you play.”

Obi is silent for a long moment, and Shou asks, “So what was this all about?”

Obi speaks, but it’s hushed, muffled.

“I see,” Shou says, serious. “Well, I’ll…think on that. You take that girl home.”

The next thing she knows she’s being lifted, tucked against a firm chest.

“Where are we going?” she murmurs, not bothering to open her eyes, just laying her head against him.

“I’m taking you home,” Obi rumbles, voice deep in his chest, loud against her ear if not spoken.

“No!” She squirms, making him grip her tighter. “You can’t! What if – they’ll see you!”

It was bad enough when Pavo would throw rocks at her window, but Obi carrying her home in the wee hours of the morning? If a single set of eyes saw them, they’d be a done thing in a day, Oma never giving her a moment’s rest –

“Fine,” he sighs. “I’ll bring you to Anda’s.”

It doesn’t matter how careful, how stealthy Obi is – Herr Anda is already limping down the stairs, mouth set in a scowl.

“What happened?” he snaps. “What fool thing –“

“Got trapped in the larder,” Obi tells him simply. “She’s fine. Just – sleeping.”

“Might as well try to wake the dead,” Anda grouses. She’d protest, if she wasn’t so comfortable. “Bring her up. And you might as well take the bed in the back; wouldn’t do any good for either of you, if you’re seen leaving.”

“No one would--”

Herr Anda laughs, a harsh, bitter sound. “Oh, boy, everyone would. Tongues would wag if --” he lets out a huff, almost...amused. “Just take the back. The sheets are fresh and you make gossip enough already.”

Obi’s tense under her cheek, but he relaxes with a sigh. “All right. For tonight.”

She’s bleary as they stare out the apothecary window, her hands wrapped tight around her mug. The tea’s supposed to make her alert, make everything crisp, but -- nothing is going to fix the ache in her back, or the fact that she only got a handful of hours to sleep.

“Some plan that was,” Obi sighs, squeezing in next to her. “Looks like --”

They watch as Shou steps out the door, freshly washed and hair combed, dressed all up in his Sunday best. Shirayuki hardly blinks as she follow him, his large stride taking him toward the market.

“You don’t think…?” she murmurs, eyes burning.

“No.” Obi shakes his head in disbelief. “It can’t – it can’t be. He must just…be on other business.”

“We’ll have it next season,” Seyha says with a smile as wide as her cheeks can go. “He told me to bring my goats so he could see if they’re as nice as I say.”

Shirayuki stares, wide-eyed. “He did?”

“Well, no.” Somehow he smile gets even bigger. “But I told him I’d bring them so he could inspect my dowry, and he laughed. So he agrees, I can tell.”

She giggles, trying to smother it with a hand, but it’s too later, Herr Anda’s shuffling in from the back, scowl at the ready.

“Are you on about this again?” Anda snaps, though a smile lingers at the edges of it. “Let my apprentice do her job.”

“She can work and listen,” Seyha tells him, imperious. “You just can’t contain your glee. We’re going to be neighbors.”

“Glee. Ha.” He tosses up a hand. “There goes the quarter, letting you in. Hope Shou knows what he’s gotten himself into.”

“Oh, almost assuredly not.” Seyha flutters her eyelashes, chin perched pertly on a hand. “You best go warn him.”

“I will,” Anda promises. “Was planning on doing it this afternoon. Bring him a condolence gift. Sorry for your loss of sanity.”

“You are excited,” Seyha says, though there’s hesitation in the words. “I can tell.”

He opens his mouth, only to close it. When he looks at her, finally, his gaze is soft, fond. “It’ll be good. To have you close.”

Shirayuki had not even realized how tense Seyha had held herself, not until it all rushes out of her. “I knew it, you old codger.”

HerrAnda lets out his bark of a laugh, walking out the door, and –

Shirayuki may not know much about -- about things like that, but she knows what it looks like, knows the way wives and husbands look at each other --

And she can’t...unsee what she’s seen. Can’t...unknow what she knows. Her stomach roils with guilt, with the thought this has all been a terrible mistake. “Seyha…”

The woman turns to her, and she must -- must be wearing some of her knowledge on her face, for she holds up a hand, placating. “Shirayuki-ya...”

“It wouldn’t be too late,” she insists, her heart beating, frantic, in her chest. “Shou would understand, and if you --”

“Shirayuki-ya,” Seyha sighs, taking her hand, letting her thumb rub soothing whorls into the back of it. “You are young. Trust me when I say…I am old enough to know.”

Her voice is so, so small when she asks, “To know what?”

“That I cannot fix what won’t be healed.” She smiles, but there’s something sad in it now. “This is what’s best. For everyone.”

Shirayuki nods; there’s no words to fix this, to make this less true. Sometimes, there’s not enough honey to make a medicine less bitter.

So instead she squeezes Seyha’s hand, and says with a smile, “But what will you wear?”