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not-krys · 1 year ago

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Fictober 2023: The Traveling Adventures of Mr. Fox and Miss Mouse Part 2

Prompt #4: Do You Even Know What This Means?

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Rating: Teen

Characters: Mitsuhide Akechi, 'Miss Mouse' (Fem!Reader Insert using a moniker)

Summary: Detective Mitsuhide is given the task of returning a runaway bride to her husband back East. Miss Mouse, as she's calling herself, refuses to return.

Notes: 1880s America / Historical Travel AU, Fem Reader Insert, so feminine terms will be used to refer to the reader (lady, miss, missy, girl, wife, etc), Mitsuhide also being a manipulative lil shit but what else is new?

Had brainworms for this AU back in February of this year and have now decided to expand upon it for this year's Fictober entry. For the first part of the story, check this link!

Also up on ao3!

And thanks to @bluetri4ngles and @drachonia for beta reading this for me! And I know @lorei-writes was excited about the first part, so here's a part 2, love!

WC: 2487

—------

He had only closed his eyes for a minute. Mitsuhide had sworn it had only been a minute, but it seemed a minute too long for his liking. Maybe it was the swaying of the train, maybe it was his own fatigue catching up to him–he didn't know what would have caused him to be so unaware–but in the next moment, the sun had dipped behind the flying tree line, the lands out the window seemingly flatter and grassier than when he had departed. He was still sitting in the booth he had sat at with the lady in the purple dress, the girl he was supposed to be bringing back home, but there was no sign of his companion, not even a lingering scent of the lavender she had in her hat.

Well, this wasn't good.

She did have the good grace to cover his food with a napkin (untouched), and a little note thanking him again for the help earlier and letting him know that she was retiring to her cabin for the evening. Even had the audacity to sign it as Miss Mouse with a cute doodle of a mouse in a bustle dress next to her signature. Mitsuhide sighed.

He thought of returning to his own car for the evening, following suit of the lady, but he was stopped by a passing steward who handed him a note. A telegram, rather, with a hushed message.

"201." he said simply, his face strangely stiff, even for a railroad steward.

Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow as the man walked away, pushing up his glasses, seemingly. With a defeated shrug, Mitsuhide looked over the telegram, his white brow now furrowing.

"Husband growing impatient. Bring girl home. Threats of bankruptcy and setting building on fire. Doing best to stall. Please hurry. KB."

"Kyubei," Mitsuhide crumpled the paper in his hand, looking back out at the orange and purple tinged scenery.

"Doing things thousands of miles away is easier said than done, my friend." Mitsuhide closed his eyes and stood up, going back to his cabin to think. He was in for a long ride and Miss Mouse would surely hate him when she learned of his true intentions. A sad thought, to be sure, but there was a reason mice and foxes weren't the best of friends, after all.

-----

Miss Mouse, rather you, had retired for the evening after leaving your savior, Mr. Fox, behind in the dining car. As much as you had enjoyed his company and that he had saved you from some rough gentlemen that seemed hell-bent on harassing you, you couldn't stay with the dashing Mr. Fox.

Or rather, Mr. Akechi, you thought with a sigh, remembering the sight of his bellflower-stitched holster.

Yes, even word of the white-haired detective had reached your noble circles. A tall man with a deep voice and a grin that was just asking for trouble. You almost couldn't believe that Mr. Akechi, the famous detective, had boarded on a train, the very same train that you were on.

Being rescued by him certainly did a number on your heart, but the reality of the situation soon sank in after you'd had a minute to think.

Mr. Akechi likely wasn't here for a leisurely train ride through the countryside. In all likelihood, he was probably paid to bring you back home, back to that disgusting pig of a man that had swindled you out of your family and their money. You felt your blood boiling at the thought of that man's hands touching yours, and your stomach churning as he smiled a lecherous grin at you.

No, it wouldn't do you any good to waste another thought on the man. You needed to think of a plan, to find some way to escape a detective like Mr. Akechi. It was your only hope if you wanted to keep your freedom.

You sat in the comfy chair in your room, contemplating what to do next. A planned stop was coming within a day or so, you thought. You could slip into the crowd and sneak aboard another train. Although the possibility of getting caught made your heart stutter and cower out in the end.

You could also sneak into the crowd and wait for the train to leave, then just explain to the staff that you had simply missed your train and would wait for the next one. A simple enough excuse and a believable one. You could get lost in the town nearby, say you lost track of the time, and just wait in town for the next available train to take you to California. Mr. Oda would understand, wouldn't he? People get lost traveling by trains all the time, surely?

Although, it would look suspicious if you took your trunk with you into the rail station as if you meant to stay longer and not get back on the train. Would you be willing to risk leaving your belongings to elude the detective? You had heard stories of people losing their way with no belongings and dying out in the great unknown.

Maybe, you thought, perhaps you could buy more supplies in the rail town without it looking suspicious and just leave your original belongings on purpose? People lost luggage all the time anyways, right?

You sighed. Who knew starting your new life in the West was going to require this much of a daring escapade to elude both your suitor and a suave detective?

No, he wasn't that suave. He was here (possibly) to whisk you back home! That took down his handsomeness some. No amount of charm he could exude would persuade you into going back. Not ever.

You looked over at your hat, little lavender springs already starting to wilt. You frowned and stood up, taking the hat into your hands and pulled the sprigs out, setting them aside to press later.

You sat the hat back onto the table and prepared for bed, stripping the purple overdress and petticoats from your body, breathing in deeply.

Rocked by the swaying of the train, you laid in the provided bed, pulling the feathered blanket over your head, hoping to come up with a more solid plan in the morning, and a stronger hope of not seeing a certain white-haired Mr. Fox in the dining car again. Your rescuer could easily transform into your kidnapper and you sincerely hoped that wouldn't be the case. His kindness and wit had warmed you, but warmth had a habit of dissipating if there was a stiff breeze present.

You closed your eyes, hoping against hope that Mr. Fox was just here for a leisurely train ride and nothing more.

-------

The early morning sun and rumbling stomachs roused the passengers of the westward bound train. Mitsuhide brushed his hair back as he replaced his hat, noting the lessened dark circles around his eyes. Who knew that following a girl across the country would do wonders for his sleep habits?

With a yawn while buttoning up his waistcoat, he headed back to the dining car with a flourish of his jacket, finding you once again, enjoying a light breakfast and, thankfully, no unscrupulous gentlemen around to ruin your meal time.

Well, save for one unscrupulous gentleman, he thought sadly.

You jumped a little as your sudden guest seated himself, golden eyes training on you like a fox that had trapped a little mouse under his paw.

"Good morning, Miss Mouse." Mitsuhide said as he sat across from you, his dangerous grin lighting his face.

"G-good morning, Mr. Fox." you returned, cutting up your eggs with a frown, "I see you are in better spirits than yesterday. Did you have a good sleep?"

"I did, thank you for asking." he said a touch thinly, remembering the state she had left him in yesterday. "I'm heartbroken, however."

"Heartbroken?"

"You left your dear husband to fend for himself in the cold dining car all night. And after such a gallant rescue yesterday, too."

You froze.

"I never said you were my husband. That was you fibbing to make those other gentlem-"

"Yet rumors are already spreading that we are arguing and you sent me here in your anger."

"…Beg your pardon?"

"You left me in the dining car when you were angry with me. The staff and a few married couples looked on in pity. It was quite embarrassing."

"Wait, you really did sleep here all night?" You asked, worriedly.

"Feel my hands, dear, and see how cold they are."

You stared at him, trying to decide if he was telling the truth. You then looked down at his hands, frowning.

"You're wearing gloves."

"Yes, I am. So are you. Quite a mind for detail, Miss."

"Your hands wouldn't be cold if you were wearing gloves." You said, "plus, the passenger cars are all heated through steam. You wouldn't be cold at all."

Mitsuhide smirked.

"Then, perhaps, you could rub my back? The chairs here are quite comfortable for sitting in, but sleeping in them certainly isn't the best idea."

You frowned deeper.

"Teasing, Mouse." he said, "I was only teasing you. I went back to my cabin and slept quite deeply."

You returned to your eggs with a pout.

"Well, Mr. Fox, some of us don't need or appreciate being riled up like that first thing in the morning."

"I was being serious about the rumors, however."

"You and I are not married."

"No, but I did put on such a spectacular show yesterday, so much so that seeing us apart has made others curious."

"Then quell those rumors." You said firmly.

His sly smile made you pause.

"I'm afraid It would be in your best interest if I didn't."

"And why, pray tell, is that?"

"A young, unmarried woman traveling alone is just asking for trouble," Mitsuhide explained. "A married woman traveling with her husband at least has him around to protect her."

"And you're offering to be my husband for my protection?"

"Precisely."

"Why? Why do you want to protect me so badly?"

Mitsuhide paused, seeming caught for a brief moment. His placid look soon returned, however.

"It's in my nature to protect young ladies in distress such as yourself."

You huffed. So, this was how it was going to be?

"I was doing fine."

"Yesterday proved otherwise."

"I was going to ask for help from the steward and have them confined until we get to the next stop. That is, until you intervened."

"And if they escape their confinement after the train reaches the next stop, what then? They could kidnap and have their way with you, whatever their perverted minds were thinking of doing to you once you were alone."

"I-"

You paused, now the one trapped in the logic trap. You had only wanted to escape that horrible match and now… You were alone against a fox dead set on trapping you, the fox not even being the worst of the dangers in front of you, you were beginning to realize.

"Though your bravery in striking out on your own was admirable, you must also understand the world we're in, Miss Mouse." Mitsuhide said. "A woman without a man to support her won't last very long, especially out here in the unknown."

He rested his chin in his palm.

"What I'm offering is protection, so that what happened yesterday won't happen again. Better yet, a worse outcome won't come to pass so long as I'm here."

You looked at him, studying him.

"And if I refuse your protection? If I escape at the next station and flee without you by carriage? By stagecoach? Even by a horse?"

"Trouble much worse than yesterday will find you." Mitsuhide frowned, not the least bit thrilled at the idea of physically chasing you across the vast countryside aside from the comfort of the train. "Even fleeing by your own two legs would leave you at the mercy of the elements along with the evil men trying to catch your tail."

You looked away, not hungry anymore.

"Do you know what all this means, Mouse?"

"I know what it means." You bit back. "And I hate that you're right."

"Hate it and me as much as you want, Miss Mouse. So long as you agree to lie about us being married. It's for your protection, after all."

You sighed in defeat.

"I have half a mind to make you sleep in the dining car again, Mr. Fox."

Mitsuhide chuckled, pushing your plate back towards you.

"So long as you keep being my wife, Miss Mouse. I'll even sleep on the roof if you tell me to."

Much as you didn’t like him in this moment, you still had your standards.

"No, don't sleep on the roof, please. However, as your wife," you shoved the plate towards him this time, "I want you to eat."

Mitsuhide blinked in surprise.

"You didn't finish your dinner yesterday because you were helping me. The steward told me when I arrived here this morning."

"And I remember telling you I lost my sense of taste ages ago."

"Your belly doesn't care about your lack of taste." You pointed your fork at him. "Besides, I can't have my ‘husband’ collapsing from hunger if he's supposed to be protecting me from all the nasty villains that are coming after me. It's the least I can do as your ‘wife’. That’s what you wanted, correct?"

Mitsuhide chuckled after a moment.

"You're kinder than I deserve, little wife."

"I'm not your wife.” you repeated. “I pity the poor waif that takes your hand someday."

"You and me both." He never pictured himself getting married, however nice a thought it was. He couldn't put someone through his life guilt-free, wouldn’t dream of putting someone through his life, not even his worst of enemies.

Instead, he took his pleasure in eating off your plate, ignoring your pointed scowl as he snatched your fork when your back was turned to order more food. The small domestic atmosphere, though with many more strings running underneath it like the tracks beneath them, it made him smile genuinely inwardly, having the taste of a humble life he would never know otherwise, he felt.

He had been surprised that you remembered him not eating the previous evening and had thought to remedy that, despite knowing who he was, evidently, based on the change in demeanor this morning. You truly were too kind to him, at least suspecting his true intentions and yet still thinking after him enough to remind him to eat.

His true heartbreak would come when he had to take her back home, he thought with a sigh, forced to feed this kind little mouse to a much more despicable creature than him, the thought causing more displeasure and annoyance than it should have.

What was this little mouse doing to him, causing such troublesome thoughts in him?

#fictober #fictober23 #krys's adventure's in fanfiction #ikemen sengoku #mitsuhide akechi #I know that sequels and continuations technically don't count towards fictober #but this was the best I could do for this prompt #I think most new readers could get the basic gist of it #but oh well #whatever gets you writing I say #and hey #it's Mitsuhide's bday #as the resident rule-breaker #he would approve #lol

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alagaesia-headcanons · 1 year ago

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@marimo331 Thank you for the prompt!!! The timeline I'm working with is rather different, so I though an AU would be fun for this! I didn't exactly include dragon egg idea, but something along those lines. (also I already broke my resolve to keep these under 1k hhhh I am nothing if not long winded :'V !)

As a vague set up for this AU, the conflict that decimated the old Riders doesn’t go so favorably for Galbatorix and he isn’t able to secure power, so he and the Forsworn don’t last long after the war. When the chance to rebuild the Riders later presents itself via Eragon and Saphira, it doesn’t require the bloodshed it does in canon. There’s more weight on the Riders’ impact on Alagaesia’s cultures and power dynamics.

One month ago, after a series of concerning reports from the port city of Reavstone, Orrin contacted Eragon and requested aid for their investigation. A number of sailors- too many to be explained away as a crew that helped themselves to an excess of rum- have told similar tales of damaged ships and lines, snatched glimpses of uncanny creatures in the water, and ghastly sounds echoing in the caves of the eastern cliffs. A few weeks later, Eragon declared that Murtagh and Thorn would meet him at Reavstone in five days.

That should make the day of their arrival today.

Orrin can’t help but tersely wonder if the reason Eragon didn’t come himself is because of the wrong foot Orrin started off on years ago when the issue of the Riders suddenly reared its head after nearly a century of their absence. Eragon is kind hearted and has likely forgiven his past falters, and it’s of little consequence either way since he did provide the help they asked for, albeit not personally. But all the idle waiting leaves his mind drifting down such paths.

Lost in thought, he doesn’t notice at first several raised voices mingle with the cries of seagulls overhead. “Sire,” Graytooth utters, touching his arm once. His guard points up, redirecting his returned attention to the horizon. A glittering spark of red hangs there in the sky.

“Tell Powel to hail them and ask that they land in the north courtyard when they draw near,” he instructs.

More than an hour passes as they close the distance, the buzz throughout the city steadily mounting as they do. When he finally gets a clear view of them, Orrin worries briefly that even the north courtyard might not be big enough, but Thorn lowers himself with remarkably graceful precision, neatly nestling his enormity amidst the buildings of the keep. His ruby hide casts dazzling sparkles all around. He tastes the air primly, then lowers his noble head, observing all of them curiously.

As he does, in a flash of movement between his wings, Murtagh dismounts with an unhesitating leap to the ground. Running a hand fondly along the length of his neck, he makes his way around his dragon and Orrin gets his first look at the second Rider of the new generation.

Only having Eragon as a reference point, he’d pictured Murtagh resembling his half brother, but in the flesh, he is actually quite different. His figure is wiry and angular, at once appearing more lithe while also sharper around the edges. Loose curls of dark hair are half tied up behind pointed ears, a mark of the changes of a Rider, although he clearly hasn’t shared Eragon’s transformation into the spitting image of an elf. Murtagh doesn’t look entirely human, but he’s not sleekly polished in that elven way.

He’s very handsome, in fact. His eyes are clever and the subtle, sly curl of his lips is compelling. He wears a fine, form fitting tunic with sleeves that reach to his elbows, perhaps to better accommodate use of magic. Orrin would think he’s more of an athlete than a warrior if not for his scarlet sword.

Hand on his chest, he bows his head and greets, “Murtagh, at your service.” Then he holds his hand out towards his partner. “And Thorn, at your service.” Thorn pushes a paw forward in such a way that it hinders the other nobles from approaching, something Orrin feels an unexpectedly profound pulse of gratitude for. The dragon chuffs sonorously and blinks at him, and a breath of awe flutters in Orrin’s chest.

“I am honored,” he exhales, after almost forgetting his decorum facing the odd pair. “I am King Orrin, and on behalf of Surda, I want to thank you for providing your help with these unusual troubles.”

“Of course your majesty, the Riders will always serve people’s needs,” Murtagh replies automatically, giving the formalities only a cursory consideration. “I am the Riders’ expert on unusual troubles, after all, and I feel like I’m due to get another one under my belt,” he quips, wryly alluding to his past which Orrin isn’t wholly familiar with, but that he grasps the broad outline of well enough to know ‘unusual’ is an understatement. “Eragon told me what you said. I was impressed by the insight you had on all the reports.”

“Ahh, well,” Orrin fusses his fingertips over the clasp of his cloak. He didn’t realize that’d been passed along. “With Aberon’s library at my disposal, it seemed only right to do a bit of research.” He pauses for one beat, but Murtagh doesn’t interject, watching attentively. “Well- from all the sources I could gather, I’m very skeptical that it could be a Nïdhwal of any kind. It would be far too close to shore and I couldn’t find a single thing that would account for the sounds. One crew had convinced themselves that Ra’zac had made a den in the cliff-” Murtagh hums in his throat, entertained- “and their paranoia was threatening to spread into a panic. Luckily they listened well enough for me to assure them that it can’t be Ra’zac, as they’d never get so close to the sea.”

“Exactly, exactly,” he concurs intently, waving a hand towards him, “because they suffer in damp nests and-”

“They can’t swim,” Orrin finishes, gesturing back. “Right. Old accounts were thorough enough to rule them out easily, but left more to be desired about other creatures. I have a handful of theories on what this could be, but nothing definite.”

Thorn snorts, his breath ruffling Murtagh’s hair. “Thorn’s right, it sounds like you would be quite the asset for figuring this out. Do you plan to be on the ship that’s going to guide us to the cliff side?”

Orrin falters for a moment, taken aback by the prospect, then instinctively glances over at Graytooth. The look he gets in return is faintly exasperated, although not particularly determined to deny him. His guard wontedly remarks, “It would be dangerous.”

But Orrin can’t focus on that, his mind alive with the thought of fresh, open air outside of city walls, escaping the overbearing and ever present pressure of his court, the allure of a meaningful mystery where his curiosity and urge to understand might have a purpose for once. -And having a dragon and his Rider circling overhead! Surely, with them, the danger wouldn’t be so great.

Indeed, Murtagh offers, “We’d do everything we can to see to your safety.”

“...Do you think it’d make any difference? If I were there?”

Murtagh considers him with an even stare. “I think there’s no way it wouldn’t. In my experience, the right companion might make all the difference when it comes to unusual troubles.” The right companion. Orrin struggles to believe he could ever fill such a role. Murtagh tips his head and shrugs, saying, “It’s up to you if that seems wise, though. I can’t say for sure, and there’s only one way to know.”

Scattering the people gathered in the courtyard like a flock of startled sparrows, Thorn rearranges his legs beneath him and lays down, resting his head on his front paws, flicking the tip of his tail. Orrin feels the projected touch of his mind and his instinct to immediately refocus on his mental defenses lurches up, but after a heartbeat, he relaxes and listens to the dragon say, We’d like to hear your theories.

Orrin can’t restrain a small smile, touched. Murtagh shifts his weight and straightens his shoulders. “I’ll tell you what I learned, then. Whatever I can do to keep this danger from harming anyone else, I’ll do it. So- if it might help, I will join,” he vows.

Thorn purrs as Murtagh grins.

#eragon #inheritance cycle #orrin #murtagh #murtagh morzansson #ic thorn #my writing #mxo #murtagh x orrin #the boys get to go on an adventure <3!#the moment orrin smiles he got murtagh thinking 'oh no he is Pretty 😳'#ill start on the next prompt v soon!#(wanted to make a new post instead of reblogging again just for my own organizational purposes)

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