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The first time she came here, she was a girl. A mere nineteen years summers - wide eyed, anxious, and filled with uncertainty. At her side, an equally tentative and much shorter mentor had hugged close. That their arrival had been uninspiring would have been an understatement. The thick sheets of snow; the unimpressed scholars; the bare rooms with their simple cots and dressers. And, worst of all, no Zen.But this place...From the moment she first stepped through its heavy oak doors, weighed down with worry and gut gnawing with more than hunger, she knew that she’s had found a reminder of who she once was.The wait staff had been kind, seating them as close to the hearth as humanly possible and yet still neither she nor Ryuu had been unable to shed their outer garments. And just the same as now, the air had been heavy with beer and simple fried dishes. Though nothing made in this kitchen was remotely similar to what was prepared in her grandparents – the waitress had to describe the dishes one by one, patiently explaining which were the regional specialties and which were inspired by further north than even here – the wave of familiarity had soothed her stomach and warmed her heart. Here, in a land full of strangers and useless to anyone that didn’t know her (and that was everyone), she was closer to her childhood home than she thought she would ever be again. The sound of the restaurant clatters around them, filled with happy cheers and laughter and the memories of that first day and every day that came after. Obi’s arrival. The moment she declared that she, too, would aim for Wilant. Giggling over drinks as Yuzuri swore that Shirayuki would be able to bear more than a single glass and still walk home at the end of the night before her tenure at Lyrias ended. Obi betting against that promise. Endless working lunches and dinners and then even breakfasts with Suzu and Lata and Shidan, picking through details while stuffing their faces after two meals skipped faster than was wise.But no matter the memories, no matter the happy days, it still doesn’t change the way her empty stomach sours at the thought of food now. Between them both, Zen is the one among them the least versed with the shape Obi’s disapproval takes - she does not think Obi had the nerve to do more than tease in Wistal, and even then it was more difficult than he would ever let on. But she, on the other hand, who has had years of direct opportunity to accumulate, ah, mishaps, was well aware that even the gentlest of hearts had bridges one must not cross. So it is not a surprise when Zen is the first one to break the ice wall of silence. “Well, um, Obi-““We’re sorry,” Shirayuki breaks in to save him, because she is. Really, truly, she is.Zen won’t have her taking the blame, though she wish he would. “It was my mistake. I was the one who said we should follow you.”Smile pursed tight in a way that reminds her eerily of Makiri, Obi shrugs, lazily picking through a bowl of nuts the waitress brought with their drinks. “No worries. It’s perfectly fine.”Fine. The word is flat. Lifeless. And really she’s just the worst friend. The absolute worst. She knows how Obi values his privacy, how little of himself he shares. She’s spent the better part of four years now drawing him out and- and the times that it was him and not circumstances that made him speak of his life beyond her and Ryuu and the Olin Maris were precious, a gift of trust, and now they went and stole them from him-Zen straightens, leaning across the table and later she thinks that he must have been trying to dispel this awkward air, because that’s the only reason one would possibly want to stay on this topic. “So, when did you noti-”A pistachio nut cracks between two long fingers, the sound crisp and sharp. It sends her back to Tanbarun. To the Sunday markets when the fowlers brought more than eggs to hawk. She remembers her first time there, standing half nestled in her grandmother’s skirts as they shouldered their way through the crowds to pick out the plumpest bird. Her small hand had reached out, pointed, and the man had swooped it up into a flurry of squawks and feathers and frantically beating wings. It was fast, over in not nearly a second, the snap of bone swift and clean and-It sounds exactly like that.Swallowing, Shirayuki fiddles with the fringe of her skirt and Zen is painfully silent as Obi washes down the nut, his eyes level and dead. Swishing the beer between his teeth, the weight of his ire lays even heavier, and- Oh god. Shirayuki looks away. He’s really mad, oh no.It’s the giggle that tips her off. Then the snort. Then Obi is in full hysterics under her and Zen’s startled gazes, head thrown back and palms slapping the table. He’s- he’s making a scene, and if she had a heart to be embarrassed, she would be, but she can’t when she doesn’t know what it means.“I can’t do it,” he giggles, tears glittering in the corners of his eyes. Every few words escape between little gasps of air. “I mean. You guys were hiding? And it was funny you were acting all weird about me? So I played along! But let’s stop here. I've got to stop.”The pressure lifts from her chest, but not entirely. Obi wipes the moisture from the corner of his eyes with the heels of his palms.“So,” she ventures, uncertain. “You’re not angry?”Obi snorts, a fit of giggles nearly starting him up again. “No way!” he laughs, waving his hand. “I was walking aimlessly on purpose!”That… certainly sounds like something he would do.But before she can comment on it, and because he apparently he didn’t learn from his last try not two minutes ago, Zen presses, “Then who were you meeting at the base?”It's almost funny the way Obi's face goes from amused to annoyed. Almost. Sighing, he hides it behind his drink. “Straight to the point as soon as the awkwardness passes, huh?” Obi grumbles into his cup. His eyes don’t return to theirs, instead stalling in the depths of his drink, and Shirayuki’s heart gives a single pound when his cheeks go a shade darker.“Well.” He chokes out something affecting a grin and it’s not unlike the smile he gives her when she removes a bandage. Tense. Pained. And entirely fake. “Well, she was my partner for a marriage meeting!”Shock… would be a word for what she is feeling. If shock could strike you to the gut like this. Her chest feels strange, too, like her heart isn’t beating in her chest like it should. Zen isn’t speaking, either, and Obi’s cheeks go darker, his mouth opening to no doubt fill the silence with something other than this.Another, brighter voice makes it so he doesn’t have to. “May I take your order?” the waitress breaks in.“Ah, right!” Shirayuki stutters, tearing her gaze away and up. Then, because clearly it’s her job to lighten the mood by stating the obvious, she adds, “We haven’t ordered yet!”~ ~ ~“Let’s see,” Obi drawls, picking up his tankard. It’s his third and he has shown no hint of slowing down. But he also hasn’t pressed her or Zen about still being on their first. “She’s the younger sister of one of the knights here. He’s been bringing it up over and over since way back...“The strangeness in her chest turns into a lurch and she presses her forefingers to her pulse under the table. Counts her heartbeat in time to her breath. Does the math. That’s months of him thinking about this. Months of him measuring himself to decide if he- if he wants-“…And that brings us to today!” Obi shrugs. “That’s all.”To think, it was that long. That long about thinking of something so important and he didn’t-Tell her.“What kind of person is she?” Zen asks, because her chest isn’t feeling strange enough as it is. She takes a quick gulp of her own drink in lieu of rubbing her sternum to soothe the ache.“Eh?” Obi rucks his mouth up, considering. “Ah, mm, she’s a few years younger than me. Her older brother is full of energy and she doesn’t seem to know what to do with him. They seem to be close. I think she’ll find a good match soon. We talked a little about those dinner banquet gatherings they hold for young people.”Zen nods, mouth full of food, but Shirayuki just… sits there. Staring at him. With her mouth slightly agape. And she wishes she had some elegance in these matters, because this was- a big deal! She should be happy that he was- was trying. That he thought himself well enough - good enough - to move forward.“Miss?” Obi prods gently, smile nervous and stretched thin. “You haven’t said anything.”“Ah.” The breath comes out in a surprised puff. She hadn’t- she didn’t notice that she had been holding it all in. “You went so far as to hide it. I thought that maybe she had some sort of situation surrounding her.”Obi’s smile slaps off clean and then he ducks his head, as guilty as a scolded dog. “Ahh, I see.” He shakes his head, but he’s hiding from her. “No. It wasn’t an issue with her.”Shirayuki’s heart clenches. Maybe this place was too open. Maybe they needed to go someplace more quiet-“When I’m dealing with something outside my comfort zone,” Obi begins, body rounding in on itself, and she almost drags him out of this bar right then and there. Here, the lighting is too poor. She can only see the tension in his jaw when he flexes it, the sharp arch of his cheek cutting light and shadows, the shy glimmer of gold as his eyes avert from hers. The rest is hidden behind his drink. “It’s like my senses dull. There was no reason to hide it, but with my mind stuck on it like that, I felt like I couldn’t face you.”“That makes sense,” Zen says, infuriatingly patient for a man who just minutes ago was not. “You’re not the type to jump off unfamiliar scaffolding, after all.”Shirayuki’s jaw goes slack and she- she’s never been so inspired, not since their first meeting, to shake him. To pull him aside and ask what is wrong? It had been like this ever since their reunion. Well, not their reunion in particular, but the three of them. Every song sung a chance to scoff, every observation an opportunity to launch a barb. It had been- not entirely unforeseen, not when they took their short trip south and certainly not when Zen invited himself up to Lyrias for several weeks. Zen has always been jealous, nipping at the heels of anyone who spent more time with her than him. He was like that with all of his people and kept each one of them as close as his brother would allow. But- she was growing weary after weeks of it without end.Obi, this time, like all the other times, laughs, no better than Zen in falling back into his patterns from- from before and her heart sinks. That he would hide the strike behind a joke was one thing, but this time, his hand climbs out from beneath the table, grasping for his shoulder--before falling just short and plopping down on the surface of the table.Shirayuki stares at it. It's been... years, she thinks. Perhaps. Since she saw that motion. It has her swallowing down on a scream, tearing her gaze from it to Obi's face where the lines draw tight around his eyes. She wonders if it was obvious before as it is now that his smile is a lie.“You’re right!” Obi laughs. “Of course.”“In any case, people are asking after you, huh?” Zen asks with a sigh. “That means I should probably introduce you formally at this point.”“Oh no Master,” Obi holds up both hands in protest, and Shirayuki wants nothing more than to join him in that objection. “That’s not necessarily.”He’s adamant, shaking his head. “As your lord, it’s my responsibility. I honestly should have done it years ago,” Zen says, plucking at his hair. “After we got your first, ah-“He cuts off with a wince, guiltily, a delicate flush creeping up his neck.Shirayuki doesn’t think she wants to know. But her mouth had never been good with holding back a question. “First…?”“First, uhm-” The flush deepens, red blotching his cheeks, “-courtship letter.”“What?”Surprisingly the one squawking is her. When her eyes snap to Obi for confirmation that her ears were working properly, he’s just as surprised as her, his jaw hanging from its hinges.“Courtship?” he asks faintly, and oh- oh, she did not need to know the way his voice sounded when it he has been so thoroughly wounded. “Letters?”Zen clears his throat, looking everywhere but the two of them. “Yea, uh-“ He straightens a little, ducking past her startled gaze to look Obi square in the eyes. “It’s only natural, first as my messenger and then as an immediate knight that you would gain some interest.”Obi goes a shade paler, a sickly sheen dotting the edge of his forehead. His eyes are distant, faded, but his smile is still in place, his motions still attentive, and-“Wait,” Shirayuki steps in. “How many? When did they come? After we left for Lyrias?”Zen winces and continues not to look at her. “It doesn’t matter,” he chokes, intent on Obi and no one else. “When I return, though, I’ll bring them with me. We can go over them.”It’s only because she knows him so well that she can hear the breathlessness of the reply, the panic snapping on the heels of the words. “Of course, Master.”“In the meantime!” Zen smiles, stretching his arms over his head. “We should start training you for court. Get you a wardrobe, even. Just because we’re behind doesn’t mean we can’t catch up!”“Wait!” Obi straightens, hands splayed out across the table. “There’s no need-”It’s rare that Zen strengthens his voice with them, making his words less a request and more a demand. “There’s every need, Obi.” They both straighten, shocked, and a small smile of the Prince they know tugs at his lips. “They’ll be inviting you, you know? To those dinners. I don’t want them to have reason to think you’re anything less than an ideal companion.”“Well,” Obi laughs, and she wonders if Zen can hear what she does. Or if they’ve changed so much that the language spoken beneath the words is lost to him. “I was already invited before. We all were.”That gets a reaction. “Shirayuki, you too?” Zen yelps, betrayed. “This is the first I’ve heard of it!”“It was a luncheon!” she chirps helpfully, kicking at Obi’s shins under the table. She catches his lips twitching around his drink, pressed once again to his mouth, and- and-Fine. They were even now. She spies on him. He tells on her. Even.Also, as much as she hates to admit it, Zen’s is… endearing when he pouts like this. “It’s not an issue of time of day… I mean, that matters, but that’s not it!”They went exactly once, is what she wants to say. After a repeated outbreak of a stomach virus seemed to center on one banquet hall in particular. She hadn’t even done much aside from collect samples under the cover of their ruse. It had been easier than expected, and all the gentlemen had been so nice, even if she did smell like cold meats and cheese for a week after.“I wanted to turn down the invite, but Miss insisted!” Obi objects over her thoughts, like a liar. He hadn't wanted to go, yes, but she had not asked him to follow and neither of them had particularly enjoyed the experience regardless. The entire afternoon had been him dodging away from soft hands and sweet voices while she alternated between glowering at the kitchen and Obi’s would be suitors. “It made it very hard for me to come up with excuses to not entertain partners at a party just for that purpose.”Zen gives him a flat look. “You sure have confidence in your popularity.”You would, too, Shirayuki thinks. If you had seen him at that luncheon.Obi ducks his head coyly, lashes fanning across his cheeks as he lifts his mug. “I understand how much I’ve got from past experience,” he grins. “”I’ve got some talent in lighting a flame.”If Zen catches the inference, he doesn’t let it show. For her part, she just… wishes he wouldn’t joke like that. Not when--Not when he was… thinking about a wife.“…Did you try that at the dinner party?” Zen drawls, eyebrows raised.Obi sputters. “I did not! I was with the young Miss!”And that, she thinks, may be the only time that her presence dissuaded him from anything.
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He would never admit it to anyone, not even to himself, but when he was a child, he had dreamed of nights like these. There had been snowy days and freezing nights where he had stood perilously on top of crates, blowing hot air between numb fingers and peering into great homes through frosted windows. They had been like storybooks, like paintings, like the displays at the toy shoppes he had never been allowed into: grand rooms filled with light, musical notes spilling out underneath the cracks of windows and doors, and piles of food so immense that his stomach still cramps when he thinks of them.And the people, the people, all wrapped in bright brocade silks trimmed with fur and golden thread; long trains dragging across polished marble; sparkling jewels and coiffed hair; men, just as beautiful as the ladies, bowing over gloved hands and leading their partners to the center of the room to sway and spin and laugh and whisper secrets to.It had looked like so much fun.“Come on,” Master tugs his arm. “I see Lady Herith.”Obi sighs, dragged forward through the press. The fragrance of sweat and perfumes is so cloying and oppressive it kills his appetite, the heat of the ballroom so stifling he wants to find a window to hang his head out of. His back itches, sweaty under wool and the weight of eyes picking him apart piece by piece. Who would have thought that being in here would feel so much like being on the auction block?“Oh, Your Highness!” a matronly woman gushes, fluttering her eyelashes coyly underneath the weight of her curls. She must have been a great beauty in her day - he had heard Lata speak highly of all the Herith sisters - but the years had made her go soft and wrinkled like aged fruit. At her side, a slip of a young woman with rouged cheeks smiles demurely, the pull of her lips dimpling her cheeks. “I had not heard you were looking to be matched.”“I’m not,” Master laughs, pulling him forward when he would rather run away. “I’m here to introduce my Knight. Sir Obi, Lady Herith.”Lady Herith’s smile falters, just for a moment - an immediate knight to the royal family is a decent catch for a Lady, he’s told, but not nearly as good as a Prince who may soon be Duke Wilant - before gracing Obi her most genial smile. “Sir Obi?” she ducks her head. “Allow me to introduce my daughter, Lilith.”Obi gives it his all, falling into the rehearsed movements that Master and Sir had spent the last three nights drilling into him. “It’s my pleasure,” he bows, peeking up at her from beneath his lashes.“Sir Obi,” she murmurs, eyes averted.He withdrawals. Perhaps she’s shy.“This is Obi’s first season,” Master claps him on the back, jarring him. “Perhaps you will have a chance to speak at length later.”“Of course,” Lady Herith nods, snapping open her fan. Ah, he wishes he had one of those.“Would Sir Obi have an opportunity to dance later on in the evening?” Lilith’s voice is small, dainty like the music from a ballerinas jewelry box. It makes Obi smile - she’s so young still. Too young to be saddled with someone like him.He rests his hand upon his breast. “Perhaps, My Lady, if my Master would give me but a moments rest.”Her cheeks blossom prettily. Her mother, however, hisses sharply through her teeth.“Excuse us,” Master is tugging at his collar now, yanking with enough strength to convince him to go easily. He’s already coughing by the time they are half way across the room.“Why must you be like this?” Master huffs, grabbing the both of them a drink from a passing tray.Obi smiles, tugging at the pulls at his neck. “I was only answering the Lady’s question.”“You don’t-” Master pinches the bridge of his nose and looks up towards the ceiling as if it might provide him guidance. “This is my fault. We shouldn’t have rushed it.”Obi frowns, taking his glass. For the life of him, he can’t figure out-“I should be here by next season,” he continues and, presumably finding no answer in the painted stars above, searches for answers in his cup. “Until then, I’ll ask Forenzo to train you in court manners.”Obi almost spits out his drink. “Master!” he laughs. “Don’t tease me like that!”Master’s brow furrows, like it has many times these last few days. He’ll get wrinkles if he keeps doing it. “I’m not. It’s something I should have done when you first started getting marriage proposals.”It is a rare occasion when he is well and truly surprised, and this time, it hits him like a bucket of ice water. It was one thing to have matchmaking sessions in Lyrias, but to have people asking for him in Wistal? “How long have I- When did you…?”Master waves his hand. “Never mind. There’s nothing to be done about it now.” He smiles, fond and exasperated. “I’ll ask Makiri if there is someone he can recommend to get you up to speed if Lata is unavailable.”~ ~ ~Obi has spent his life clinging to the shadows, hiding in plain sight, and ducking into alcoves to avoid detection. He thought he could handle anything. But, he has come to find, all of his years of training has not prepared him for the insistence of young women of marrying age.
“Sir Obi-”
Master has left him alone, searching out Miss in this sea of suitors, and never before has he felt so much like raw meat thrown into shark infested waters.
“Sir Obi-”
He pretends not to hear it, turning and slipping in-between the press of bodies.
“Wait, Sir Obi!”
Another sends him ducking under a waiters tray, around a column.Whoever gave him the impression that these events were fun, were magical, were something to aspire to was obviously off their rocker.“Obi.” An arm laces through his. “Stop making a scene.”He blanches, caught, half way towards throwing this newest suitor into the buffet table and leaving Clarines for good when he looks down, meeting calm violet eyes beneath a perfectly coiffed crown of gold.“Miss Kiki,” he breathes, tension pouring out of him. “Where is your escort?”“Everyone here knows who I am,” she hums, and the crowd parts before her like it never did for him. “Mitsuhide is chaperoning Shirayuki.”Obi scans the room quickly - Sir is easy enough to find, even among the North, and the crowds thins enough to show him smiling, laughing gently at something Master is saying, Miss smiling between the two of them.His heart twists at how lovely they look together, how perfect, and he drags his eyes away. He shouldn’t be feeling these things, especially not when Master is at her side. When they’re so close to accomplishing their goal. “Has Miss-?”“-had many suitors approach her?” Kiki finds them a spot along the wall to breath. “A few. Not as many as she should.”Obi frowns. “What do you mean?”“She’s a good match for a number of men in this room,” Kiki says, nodding towards a passing nobleman with a partner hooked around his arm. “But there are reasons few are willing to brave approaching her.”Master.Obi fetches himself a drink, the third for the night. After this, Master and Sir insisted he was permitted no more. “And you?” he asks, handing Kiki her own.She smiles, faint, with just the hint of teeth. “They don’t want to embarrass themselves.”He frowns, but doesn’t speak. She knows what he wants to ask - what they all want to ask. But he won’t be the one to do it.“It is easier when my father escorts me,” she says against the flute of her cup. “He is able to handle suitors with far more… grace than I am.”“Why Miss Kiki,” he drawls. “If you’re still looking for a husband, you could call me anything you li-”“No.”Obi grins into his glass.The conversation trails off again and it’s- nice, being around a person who understands silence as much as he does, even in the midst of so much noise.“Why are you here?” she asks quietly. “You don’t have a family name to prop up and I can’t see you marrying for money.”Obi swirls his drink. “I wonder.”There’s a sharp pain at his shin and he hisses, glaring over at her as he rubs the hurt. “I take that marriage proposal back.”“Good,” she deadpans, eyes never leaving the room. “Now answer.”Obi’s heart sinks, as heavy a lead. “I’ve been thinking,” he begins haltingly. “That it’s been nice… belonging somewhere.” He glances over at her, watching her face for something- anything, really- “And?” she presses.Obi swallows. “And I’ve also been thinking… what would it mean belonging indefinitely.”That brings her pause. Kiki finally looks at him - really, looks at him - blinking, slow and… approaching understanding. “Maybe not belonging to a place but-” he rushes, looking back across the room where Mistress Haki has found the crowd, another young lady at her side. Sir looks delightfully uncomfortable and Miss covers her mouth to hide her smile.“-To someone,” Kiki finishes.Obi swallows thickly. “Yea.”~ ~ ~“Was it worth it?” Obi asks, soft and quiet, many minutes later. “In the end?”Kiki doesn’t say anything. For the longest time he thinks she won’t say anything at all. The music and clattering of glassware and swell of voices is so loud between them, maybe she didn’t even hear him.Master swoops by, Mistress Haki on his arm. They are dazzling and beautiful and every thread of them is something he will never be.Obi’s heart lodges itself in his throat and he takes a deep, steadying breath.“Obi,” he turns towards her and Kiki is smiling, but she’s not looking at him. “Shirayuki doesn’t have a dance partner.”He looks to her, blinking rapidly and she- she’s right. Miss is sitting alone, watching the ballroom with dazed eyes, cheeks flushes and beautiful and everything he could possibly-Obi tips back his glass and the alcohol burns the whole way down. “Goodnight, Kiki.”He steps forward, one step closer to her, one step away from who he might have been.“Good luck.”
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Lyrias has made her soft.That’s what Obi had told her once, not six months after their arrival. That between the routine of research and a regular pharmacy rotation, she had relaxed. Had eased back into life. Perhaps had become the girl he never met in Tanbarun.At the time, she had laughed, gently nudging him as she replied that he obviously was thinking of himself more than her. Nothing about Lyrias had been easy, especially for a scholar aiming for Wilant. Positions at the northern universities were rare, and the fact that hers had gone to a foreigner with rumored connections had only aggravated hostilities. She may have been blessed with a lab that was kind, but her esteemed colleagues in other departments certainly were not.Unfortunately, it seems that she may have been short-sighted.This ball is packed to the brim, Zen’s attempts at keeping his presence hidden only lasting until the second week of his visit, and what would normally be a sedate match makers affair has suddenly become the event of the year.The layers of silk and furs and perfumes is dizzying, every person present bearing bright smiles with sharp teeth and sharper eyes. Yuzuri had been inconsolable when she had found out that she could not come, but Shirayuki is… grateful that her friend is not subject to this.Anyone who is anyone within a couple of days ride is here, rubbing shoulders and scanning the room for their second Prince. It reminds her, too late, how the politics of Zen’s world were entirely different from the politics of hers. At least when she stood on the podium in front of her peers, she didn’t have to worry about a knife finding its home between her shoulder blades.Usually.Mitsuhide shifts at her side, just enough to crowd a gentleman who was far too animated and far too drunk for so early in the evening from falling into her. For all of his gentle natured mannerisms, Mitsuhide is an armed giant in a room filled with giants, and she is grateful for that in the most frustrating of ways when the man turns, the scowl on his face gentling to apology before he scampers off.“Thank you,” she smiles.Mitsuhide winks.She stares back out into the crowd.Somewhere in this press of bodies is Obi, standing at Zen’s side as both guard and postulant. Being courted while Zen holds court with the nobility that will soon become his subjects. The whole thing makes her stomach flutter uncertainly, makes her tense and edgy in her own home. Normally, Obi would have quieted her overthinking by now, but if Obi himself cannot stand at her side on this night, then Mitsuhide is an excellent stand-in. He’s calming in a way that only a man made of sheer, unintentional intimidation can be.“Do you need to sit down?” Mitsuhide asks, and Shirayuki starts, eyes drawing up towards his. “You look a little flushed.”“Oh!” Shirayuki touches her cheek. It is warm beneath her palm. “No, no. It’s the wine, I think.”“I’ll get you some water,” he says, plucking her glass from her hand. “There’s an open window over there. You can borrow my coat while I-”“Where’s Kiki?” she interrupts suddenly. “I haven’t seen her yet tonight.”Mitsuhide’s internal mother hen immediately stops clucking, the faint creases on his forehead replaced by surprise, before his face darkens in a way that she had not expected. “Zen relieved her for the evening. Lady Seiran has to make a showing tonight.”Shirayuki, for the life of her, cannot understand why. “You should go find her,” she encourages. “Zen didn’t say you had to be attached to my hip all night.”“I think it was a given that I do,” he smiles, not at all unkind when he adds, “You have a history of, ah, disappearing at balls.”She is grateful that Obi is not within ear shot to hear that.“Ah,” Shirayuki perks, standing on her tiptoes. “There she is!”It’s a lie. She’s not sure. There are so many blondes here that she feels inspired to make an inquiry on the lineage of the whole of Clarines nobility and royal households. But Mitsuhide’s head snaps towards the crowd, scanning the press of bodies before his eyes lock on a space across the room. Shirayuki follows it, and- yes! There she is.“She looks beautiful,” Shirayuki comments lightly, but it’s true. Kiki always looks beautiful. Tonight, bedecked in ice blue and ivory silks, she looks nothing short of a queen. “It’s a shame she is not dancing with anyone, Mitsuhide.”Her attempt at nonchalance obviously falls a couple inches short.“Hmm,” Mitsuhide eyes her, landing her half full glass of wine on a passing tray. “You’ve been spending too much time with Obi.”Shirayuki beams. “He says I’m improving.”Mitsuhide grunts, noncommittal, and doesn’t move.Grin falling, Shirayuki’s eyes follow where Kiki’s presence dominates, maneuvering through this territory as if it was her native soil. And she supposes that it is. Everything sparkles here, from the fine crystal to the jewels glinting off of gowns to the dazzling smiles of those hoping to make a match with a fine catch. Kiki is a crown jewel of the North. The sheer number of suitors she must have is dizzying.And Obi, too. He has suitors now as well. And. Well. Any one of them would be lucky to have him as her husband, while she-“Shirayuki!”Her stomach recovers from it’s sudden free fall, the breath that was momentarily stolen from her returning in an easy drag, and she smiles, turning towards the sound of the voice. Through the press of fluttering fans, she catches sight of Zen’s snow white crown turned gold by candlelight, his smile bright as he approaches her.He’s alone.Her heart skitters, whatever ground she had gained, lost. “Where’s Obi?”Zen pauses, his face curving into a frown before relaxing into a smile once more. “Ah,” Zen waves his hand. “He asked for a moment to himself.”“Are you sure that’s wise?” Mitsuhide observes, taking a sip of his own drink. “If he’s sneaking out back to be with one of his suitors-”Shirayuki’s stomach lurches uncomfortably, but Zen only laughs. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” he says, gesturing subtly across the way. “Unless you think Kiki’s going to have a sudden change of heart.”Shirayuki follows the gesture and it is easy now to catch sight of the dark crown of Obi’s head, moving at a docile clip. The crowd parts just enough for her to see Kiki gracefully perched on his arm, and Shirayuki’s heart twists.Ah. That’s him.That’s the man she sees coming closer to the surface every day, a finely clothed knight with his lady on his arm. He looks like someone of importance. Someone of respect beyond their mere group of acquaintances, and- and seeing another woman on his arm, someone with the ability to match his skill and poise in this fine place, Shirayuki cannot help but think back to that night not too long ago when he shocked her into wakefulness by offering her his arm to help guide her home.She had been too surprised, then, to take it. And now someone else stands where she might have.Zen must be following them as well. “But he’s not ready,” he says softly, his voice a hushed sigh.Shirayuki doesn’t know what to do with the relief that she feels.Mitsuhide pats him on the shoulder. “It’s okay. We did what could have been done with the time allotted.”“No,” Zen shakes his head. “No, I was too short sighted. I should’ve begun preparations after the marriage offers started to arrive. I would have been a challenge, but-”Mitsuhide’s voice drops soothingly. “You did what you thought was best at the time.”“Wait,” Shirayuki blinks, tearing her gaze from the two across the room. “What?”Zen and Mitsuhide grimace in unison, as if they had forgotten she was there and now had been caught in a lie. Zen ducks his head and messing up his hair with his suddenly anxious hands. “I, ah-”“Obi has been getting marriage offers,” Mitsuhide blurts out, only adding to Zen’s grimace. He has the good graces to look slightly abashed when he adds, “You, too.”Shirayuki’s mouth gapes open. It takes her a moment to remember how to close it. “Why-” she swallows, looking between them. “How long?”Zen’s eyes are tense at the edges. “Since you returned from Tanbarun.”She stares at them both until they squirm. “That was years ago,” she breathes.“We didn’t-” Zen squeezes the back of his neck, unable to look her in the eye. “I didn’t want to upset you. Either of you. In the beginning.”“And after?”“Well… things got complicated.”Shirayuki’s shoulders sink, looking beyond them onto the dance floor. The part of her that is not morally offended understands. Between Raj and Mihaya and the Claw, then followed by her relationship with Zen, and Obi’s… history, it was an understandable conclusion to make. But still-“I would have liked to have known my own business.”They both drop their heads like scolded school boys.“I’m sorry,” Zen says.“No more secrets.” She pauses, wetting her lips. “From either of us. It would be… good. For him to know, too.”“When we get back to Wistal,” Zen offers. “I’ll send the ones I have.”Shirayuki softens. “Thank you.”“My, my,” a melodious voice cuts through the tension, and Shirayuki’s spine goes rigid. “To think that a matchmakers ball has such lovely wall flowers.”Zen’s face smooths to polite neutrality, turning to face the woman behind her head on. “Sister.”“None of that,” Haki says, coming up alongside Shirayuki. There is a gentle grin on her face, one that she notices nobility is fond of and always looks slightly unnatural in the way that does not crease the face. “We’re not yet related.”“It is a sure thing,” Zen assures her, bowing over her proffered hand.“Nothing is sure until it is done.”Shirayuki has not had much occasion to see the future Queen - they don’t exactly run in the same circles - but if this conversation is any indication, it’s no wonder the Lady of Lyrias was chosen to stand beside Izana. They certainly won’t get bored of each other.Before she can think too much on that, she decides to enter the conversation with as much formality as Haki herself did. “Is that why you are here, then?” Shirayuki inquiries, and she curses the way her voice is a little too high. “Trying to see what’s available?”“Ah,” Haki’s lips tremble, glancing down at her with a bubbling amusement. “Maybe it should be. But no-”One of Haki’s fine hands sweeps to the side and a young lady, one that barely looks over sixteen summers, nervously shuffles forward, dropping into a polite curtsy towards Zen.“This is Mako,” Haki says. “Lady of Kanth. It’s her first ball and her father and asked me to escort her tonight.”“I hope nothing too bad kept him away,” Zen frowns, taking Mako’s hand in his and hovering his mouth just so over her knuckles.“Nothing at all,” Haki replies smoothly. “Just not overly fond of the weather when it dips like this.”“Pity,” Zen responds, releasing Mako’s fingers with a smile. “I must apologize, Lady. My knight has excused himself for a minute yet.”Mako turns bright read under Zen’s gaze and Haki laughs. “I didn’t bring her to introduce her to Sir Obi, dear Prince.”Zen straightens, frown deep on his face. “Then who?”“You do have more than one knight in your service,” Haki says pointedly, glancing beyond him.She can see the moment the implication hits. On both men.Haki’s teeth flash white and sharp. “I heard rumor that you have no prior entanglement, Sir Rouen. It seems a shame to let such an opportunity go to waste.”Shirayuki frowns, glancing back and forth between them all. There’s something that’s not being said.From the front of the room, strings thrum, signalling the beginning of a new set.Mitsuhide seems to know a sign of divine intervention when he sees it. “Ah,” he flushes. “I don’t suppose you would like to dance, Lady Kanth?”Mako startles, eyes going wide. She looks towards Haki for direction.“I think,” Haki grins, ushering the poor girl forward. “That she would love to.”Shirayuki’s frown deepens as the two of them disappear onto the dance floor. So much for sticking to her side for the whole of the evening.“Zen,” Shirayuki begins haltingly, dragging her eyes from Mitsuhide’s stiff movements. “What-”“Such a shame. I do love this dance,” Haki sighs, looking over at Zen meaningfully. “Would my dear brother leave me to suffer being on the wall forever?”Zen’s paler than usual, gaze darting back and forth between her and Haki. “Oh, um- You wouldn’t mind, would you, Shirayuki?”“Oh, um, no!” she waves. “By all means.” Glancing up at Haki, Shirayuki smiles apologetically. “I’m a terrible dancer. It’s only fair Zen gets a chance to dance with someone who won’t step on his feet.”“How interesting.” Haki’s gaze is appraising as she extends her hand for Zen to take. “I would have thought His Majesty would have invested in dance lessons by now.”Zen looks suspiciously flushed.“He has,” Shirayuki offers. “A couple of years ago. They just didn’t take.”“Give it time,” Haki smiles in return, and the music starts to swell. “But I apologize. We must-”“Oh! Yes. Please,” Shirayuki takes a step back.They sweep by her, Zen looking at her over his shoulder, an apology clear on his face. I’ll be right back, he mouths.Shirayuki smiles, waving him off. I’ll be fine, she mouths back.And then she’s alone.Shirayuki breathes a sigh of relief, grateful for the repose. All around her, people are dancing, laughing, talking. And she just- wants things to settle once more. It has been wonderful having her friends and- and Zen here. She had missed them all. But it was tiring. So much had changed. So much was changing still, and she longs for the time when the outings and the balls will diminished and she can just… breathe.“Miss,” Obi’s familiar voice, as familiar as the back of her hand, beckons her to open her eyes, and she refuses. Just for a moment. “Have you been abandoned?”She smiles, trying to gauge his location in relation to hers. She thinks he’s right in front of her, a little to the right. “Not as much as I’ve gained a moment of peace.”“Oh,” he sounds a little uncertain. “Would you like me to…?”“Stay,” she says, quiet.He does, his presence steady at her side.“Did Kiki get swept out of your arms?” she asks.He laughs, a quiet sound. “Not as much as she kicked me out the door.”“Shame.”“Very.”Shirayuki grins, craning her head back. And she opens her eyes, slowly, taking in every last inch of him.She hadn’t had the opportunity to do for him what he had done for her so many times before. It just wasn’t done, Mitsuhide had insisted in that infuriatingly reasonable tone of his. A woman does not go to a man’s room to escort him to a ball, only the other way around. And seeing how this ball was an opportunity to be introduced rather than to escort, it had made no sense for them to arrive together like they had so many times before.But, oh, it’s a pity that she had not had the chance to truly appreciate this in private.The full weight of Zen’s purse had gone into preparing him for this night, and her mouth parts slightly, drinking him in. It is a rare event to see Obi outside the earthen tones and blacks he is so fond of, but now that he stands before her, the gold threaded brocade of his waistcoat alongside the deep maroon of his jacket warming his skin and sparking fire in his eyes in a most… appealing way, Shirayuki is filled with a longing for all the balls she had never seen him like this. That she would miss if he found himself proper match.The thought makes her sick. What if he was paired with someone who took him away?Her appraisal goes on for a seconds too long and Obi’s eyes drop, as bashful as a maiden, long fingered hand reaching up and instinctively grappling for a cowl that has been abandoned for the night, and- she gapes.She doesn’t know if it would be appropriate to laugh, but out of all the things Zen could have dressed him in, the last thing she would have expected were white gloves.“I know,” Obi laughs, straightening a little under her scrutiny and his hands go into hiding behind his back. “I’m afraid to touch anything. I might get them dirty.”“You look,” her eyes drift back to his. “Lovely.”Obi guffaws, and she doesn’t think she’s imagining the color filling his cheeks as his eyes dart away. “Miss.”“Handsome,” she corrects.His color deepens even more, but he comes back to her, glancing at her slyly from the corner of his eyes and- oh, yes, that color really does work too well for him. “And you,” he grins, closing in on her space just a little more than normal. “There’s no one in the room more beautiful.”It’s not a surprise, not with so little space between them, the way her cheeks fill with heat. It’s her eyes turn to flit away, fingers wringing in her fist as his breath fans her face-“Obi,” she sniffs, frowning as she turns back to him. “How much have you had to drink?”He straightens, drawing back. “Ah-” one gloved hand flies to his shoulder and that- that was troubling. “Not much?”Shirayuki’s shoulders droop. “Obi-”His eyes are tight. “Just enough to take the edge off. This is-” he gestures vaguely at the sea of finery surrounding them, “-an experience.”“It’s a little warm in here,” she says, because it is. And she agrees, this is… an experience, certainly. “Would you mind going on a walk outside with me?”His returned smile is filled with gratitude. “You needn’t even ask.”~ ~ ~She really shouldn’t be surprised that it is snowing. It had barely stopped since Zen’s arrival and there are some days that she wishes it would just stop for a single moment. But this is not the storm that had kept them inside that fateful night, but rather the gentle dusting that makes everything anew. If she could wish for any sort of snow at all, it would be like this.“I saw you talking to Master.”“Mm,” she hums, walking aside him at a lingering pace. She can still hear the crowd of the ballroom, the swell of music over the snow crunching under her feet, but it is muffled by glass and nightfall. “He said you needed a break.”“A break,” Obi laughs, the sound hollow, and she is instantly alert.“Is that not how it went?”They draw further from the ambient light of the ballroom, only the sporadically placed garden lamps providing them with light. “No, I suppose- I suppose that is right.”Shirayuki looks up from the walkway, considering him; the tense line of his back, of his shoulders. “He’s worried,” she says, and he comes to a dead stop. “About you.”“Miss,” he breathes, turning sharply towards her. “I would never do anything to-”Shirayuki’s concern deepens. “That’s not what he was worried about,” she soothes. “You just seem… tense. About the whole business. Why did you take Zen’s offer if it made you uncomfortable?”Obi stares at her for a long time, his eyes searching hers in the dark. “You would think,” he says, when the silence between them has become too much. “That the nobility would purchase their spouses with more finesse than they do their whores.”Her breath stops, caught up in her throat. She’s pretty sure her heart finds lodging there, too.“You don’t like this,” she says suddenly, stupidly, because of course he doesn’t.Something approaching relief unloads the tension from his body. “No,” the simple confession fogs the air. “No, I don’t.”Her hands ache to take his, to wrap him in her arms, but she’s still not sure that it is wise. “Then why are you doing it?”“I thought-” He shrugs, shakes his head, and sighs. “It doesn’t matter what I thought.”Shirayuki draws her lips between her teeth and, slowly reaching out, brushing her bare fingertips against the cool linen of his gloves. “Tell me?”Staring down at the small contact between them, he swallows. So hard she can hear it. “I thought I could handle it.”“But you couldn’t.”“I don’t… mind terribly when it’s you,” he confesses. “When you took my wrists back then, I didn’t-” His eyes are so still on hers in the dark. “I didn’t. So I thought-”Shirayuki draws in a shuddering breath. “So you thought you were ready.”Obi’s lip twitches, and he jerks his head away. “Foolish.”“No,” she breathes, stepping closer to him. “Of all the people I know, Obi, it’s you that deserves-”She’s brought up short, her breath hitching when he smiles down at her, the sadness not quite hidden. Beyond them, the music shifts, the tempo dropping to a waltz. Lips pursed tightly together, she takes the risk, sliding her hand fully into his. Obi’s eyes widen, his eyelashes fluttering for one brief, startled moment.“Obi.” She licks her lips, raising her other hand. “Can I have this dance?”He stares down at her outstretched palm, huffing a startled little laugh. When he looks back up at her, his eyes are suspiciously glassy. “Miss,” his voice sounds like he just swallowed a spoonful of honey. “Getting me alone. Taking me for a romantic walk through the snow. I should have guessed your dastardly plans all along.”“I’m surprised you fell for my plot so easily.” She keeps a straight face, her hand hovering uncertainly between them. “It never seems to work on Kiki.”“Her loss,” Obi smiles, taking her palm in his.It’s awkward, and it takes a moment, but their grips switch positions, his gloved hand wrapping around her bare fingers, his other alighting along the span of her ribs when she reaches for his shoulder.“Can I have your word you won’t break my feet?” he grins.“I give no such thing,” she puts her nose in the air, prim. “You’ll have to take the risk.”He laughs. “Fair enough.”There’s nothing he needs to worry about, not with a waltz of all things, but still their movements are careful. Of themselves. Of each other. But it is quiet and warm where the ballroom had been loud and stifling, their movements less a proper dance and more the comforting sway made of the sort of familiarity that comes with years. He had seen her at her lowest. She had seen him at his best. And still they stayed, ever present and leaning on each other for support where before there had been so little.“I suppose,” he says quietly, so quietly she’s not sure she’s supposed to hear it, “it would be too much to expect love.”Her heart stops.“Obi-” she breathes, appalled at herself as her eyes snap up to his.She’s made a mistake. A terrible, terrible series of mistakes. There have been too many years between them, too many opportunities and near chances for him to not know. She thought she had been doing the right thing, showing him what he means to her rather than saying the words, but to hear him say her worst fears out loud - that he would resign himself to find a wife than found him tolerable rather than her entire world-“I love you,” she whispers, the words a rush of sound mingled with snow.Obi, for all his grace and all his poise, doesn’t seem to know what to do with such a simple confession. His eyes widen, feet faltering in a way that she is certain she is about to be the one stepped on this time, and their dance comes to an abrupt stop. He stares openly at her.“I do,” she whispers again, fierce. “So much.”The shock melts from his face, his smile the sort of bittersweet she has come to expect, and that cool white linen brushes her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear. “And I, you, Miss.”Her heart falls.He doesn’t get it. But still, it is what she will take.The music stops, and they both blink at one another as the faint sound of applause echoes through the dark. His hands are still on her body, and hers on his.“Thank you, Miss,” Obi breathes, taking a step back and he glances down between them, at her hand cradled in his palm. He swipes his thumb over her knuckles, the cool cloth making her shiver. “We should-” his eyes flicker up to hers, and she’s made momentarily breathless. Never before has she seen such longing in a man’s eyes. “We should go inside. You’re cold.”Her voice is barely more than a whisper, but still she must protest. “Not so much.” Lips curling, some of his vulnerability disappears beneath a warm smile. “You are shivering.”She doesn’t know how to tell him that it’s not from the cold, so she smiles in return. “It’s not that bad.”He laughs, once. “Miss,” he teases, taking a step towards her to usher her back, but she does not go easily.“Take your time, Obi.”His smile flinches, eyes rounding like she wounded him, but then they soften. She squeezes his hand in hers, reassuring. “Are you sure?”Nudging him gently with her hip, she leans a little closer to his warmth. “I like the company out here better.”Obi laughs, gentle, and withdraws his hand from hers. She’s about to complain until she sees his hands reaching down his front, freeing buttons from loops and shrugging his jacket off. Her eyes widen as his arms circle around her, heavy wool landing on her shoulders. She stares up at him owlishly when he draws back.“Master dressed me up like a man of importance tonight. I should play the part,” he smiles, smoothing the fabric over her shoulders. “What sort of gentleman would I be if I let you get cold?”“I suppose you wouldn’t be Obi if you did,” she smiles, tucking herself tentatively under his arm. “But are you sure you’re not cold?”He goes stiff against her, eyes darting uncertainly about the garden, and for a terrifying second, Shirayuki worries she may have gone too quickly. But in the space of a breath, he relaxes against her, his arm resting easily over her shoulders. “I’m more than okay.”Shirayuki’s heart settles and she turns her head, pressing a single kiss to the thumb absently stroking her shoulder. “I’m glad.”Obi’s breath shudders out of him.“Mitsuhide must be looking for me,” she remarks lightly, staring behind them at the ballroom. “Unless Kiki has managed to drag him onto the dance floor. I’m not entirely sure what’s going on there.”Obi grimaces, staring down at her. “Yes,” he clears his throat. “Well, about that…”